


That Place Which We Called Home

by assbuttsinlove



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Cas, Bottom Dean, Canonical Character Death, Childhood Friends, Community: deancasbigbang, DCBB 2014, Disturbing dreams, Firefighter Dean, Firefighters, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Character Death, Past Suicide Attempt, Reunited lovers, Switching, Writer Castiel, Writers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-23 21:48:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2556932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assbuttsinlove/pseuds/assbuttsinlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is well acquainted with loss.</p><p>At the tender age of 10, he moves across the country with his family, leaving behind the only home he has ever known. More than that, he loses touch with his best friend and first love, Castiel Novak. Shortly after his departure, Dean’s parents die in a tragic fire, and he is forced to pick up the pieces of his life and move on.  </p><p>Twenty years later, dogged by bitter and painful memories of the past, he manages to put it all behind him and lead a comfortable life. That is, until his past comes back to haunt him in the shape of one Castiel Novak.  </p><p>At first, Dean is wary of Castiel’s reemergence in his life. He brings with him his own set of secrets and memories, things, that Dean isn’t sure he’s ready to deal with. Slowly but surely, over the course of time, they reconnect.  </p><p>They discover that pain is lessened once shared, and that it’s okay to fall, because there’s a crack in everything, and that’s how the light gets in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for the [DCBB 2014](http://deancasbigbang.livejournal.com/). Thank you to the mods for all of their hard work, and for hosting this challenge! 
> 
> This fic features artwork from the lovely and talented [xlostloonax](http://lostloona.tumblr.com/). The art masterpost can be found here. Thank you so much for your beautiful pieces. I really do love them a lot! 
> 
> Thank you to my beautiful betas, [Caitlin](http://sweatermisha.tumblr.com/), and [Fea](http://hamburgerjimmy.tumblr.com/). You guys are the best! Thanks for also listening to me whine about this story and for helping me through it all. 
> 
> Thanks to anyone on Tumblr who listened to me whine about writing this fic. It was a long and grueling process and I can't believe it's actually done, but I did it! 
> 
> Alright, enough with the chatter, here's the fic. I hope you enjoy it. Please forgive any errors you might find!
> 
> As always, thoughts and comments are always appreciated!
> 
> (There is both bottom!dean and bottom!cas in this fic. In Chapter 8, there's a short sex scene with bottom!dean and in Chapter 9 there is a short sex scene with bottom!cas.)

**PROLOGUE**

_Lawrence, Kansas 1994_

“You promise?” Cas asked, his voice wavering.

Next to him, Dean Winchester, his best friend nodded solemnly.  He pulled his arm back, aimed his stone, and in one fluid motion, let it fly.

The two boys watched as the smooth gray stone skipped effortlessly across the water.  Above them, the sky was painfully blue.

Dean tilted his head back and stared up, searching for clouds.  He squinted, his eyes hurting from the sun’s blinding glare; it was like staring into infinity.   

“I promise, Cas.  I’ll write, and I’ll call…” his voice trailed off and he swallowed thickly against the knot forming in his throat.  The trees rustled overhead, a comforting sound.  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  This place was the only home he had ever known.  For ten years, he had lived here, ran through these woods, swam in this lake, skipped stones across its surface, all of it with Cas at his side.  He glanced over at his best friend and he sighed.  He was so frustrated, so angry that his parents had decided to move.  Ever since his mother had broke the news to him, he had been unable to look her in the eye.

“My whole life is here, Mom!” he had yelled.

Mary had stared at him, a mournful expression on her face, her arms crossed over her chest.  “I’m sorry, Dean.  I really am.”

He hadn’t realized it then, but when he had told his mother that his whole life was here, he had meant Cas.

Cas with his blue eyes and his mop of dark, unruly hair.  Cas, his best friend, the person he spent almost all of his time with, either in his room, huddled together watching movies, or at Cas’ tree house reading comic books until the fireflies came out.  During the summer, they had spent so much time at this very lake, swimming and fishing and horsing around until they were so tired they could barely stand.  Dean didn’t want to leave his life here, he didn’t want to leave Cas, and he knew that even though Cas was doing his best to put up a strong front, he felt the same way.

“Maybe I can come visit you,” Cas said with a smile.

Dean turned to him and grinned.  He reached out and watched as his friend hesitated before taking his hand.  “You better,” Dean said.

Cas squeezed down on his hand and turned back to look out at the lake.  He could see the echo of ripples in the water, emanating from where the stone had landed.  His heart was pounding almost painfully in his chest and he knew that if he didn’t do it now, he would never get another chance.  Dean was leaving in the morning - him and his parents and his little brother Sam.  They would all pile into John Winchester’s shiny, black Impala and they would drive off, leaving nothing but an empty house, and a trail of dust in their wake.  Slowly, he turned to Dean and stepped closer to him.  “Dean?” he whispered.

Dean turned to him, his green eyes bright, his brows knitted together.  “Yeah, Cas?”

Cas licked his lips.  “Will you kiss me?”

Dean’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, shocked, unsure of what to say.  He sucked in a breath and blinked.

Cas was staring at him, expectantly, his blue eyes wide and shining with tears.

Above them, a lone cloud wafted across the blue sky.

* * *

  _Present Day_

It took every ounce of Dean’s self restraint to not pick up his alarm clock and smash it against the opposite wall.  He opened one eye and glared at it, as if that would do something.  With a weary sigh he reached out and slammed his hand down on the snooze button.  “Piece of shit…” he muttered as he pressed his face against his pillow once more.  He shifted his weight and yawned.  It was too early to be awake, but he knew if he didn’t get his ass out of bed soon, he would be late for work.  He held on tightly to those precious moments of rest, not wanting to let go.  They were like rare gemstones shining brilliantly in the jagged rock of a cave wall.

He closed his eyes and began to drift off once more.

A strange crackling sound filled his ears, followed by a high pitched scream.  As he fell deeper into his fitful sleep, the flames returned.  He could see them licking up the side of the house, so hot and bright, he could feel the warmth on his face, he could see them casting eerie shadows on everything around him.  They looked like they were dancing, perhaps, to the beat of a drum only they could hear.  He looked around and called for help but no one came.  In these dreams, no one ever came, he simply stood where he was and watched the house, helplessly, as it burned to the ground, until nothing was left but a skeleton of burnt wood and ash.

His alarm went off again and the shrill sound pulled him out of his dream, out of his nightmare.  He was covered in a layer of sweat and in his chest, his heart was pounding.  He quickly tossed off his covers and glanced at the clock.  The bright red numbers blinked, over and over and over, it was almost maddening.

When he closed his eyes he could still see them, imprinted behind his eyelids, screaming: 6:00 a.m., 6:00 a.m., 6:00 a.m.

* * *

As he pulled into his parking spot, he prayed for a quiet day.  He killed the ignition but didn’t get out of the car.  It was only 7:30.  He still had a few minutes to relax before he entered the fire station.  His shift didn’t start until 8:00, but he always came in at least twenty minutes early.  It gave him some extra time to check his assignment for the day and to get some much needed coffee into his system.  He drummed his fingers aimlessly against the steering wheel and yawned.  Sometimes he couldn’t believe that even after two whole days of rest, he was still tired when he finally showed up back at work.  Maybe it was just the station itself; just looking at it made him feel weary.  It was a different kind of tiredness, one that settled deep within his bones and promised to never leave.  He glanced at his wristwatch and cursed below his breath.  He had been sitting in the car staring out the window for ten minutes already.  With a tired sigh, he grabbed his bag from the passenger seat and exited the car.

It was chilly, and he immediately tucked his hands into his pockets.  As he waited to cross the street, he watched as two boys walked past the fire station on their way to school.  They both laughed at something and the sound of it echoed on the empty street.  When the light changed, Dean jogged across the street and glanced at the two boys as they walked up the block.

“Aye Winchester,” someone called from behind him.

He turned around and grinned when he saw Victor.  Both he and Victor had started working at the station around the same time.  They had been friends ever since.

“You actually on time today, Vic?” Dean asked with a smirk.

Victor fell into step next to him and rolled his eyes.  “Shut it.”They lapsed into a silence as they walked up to the station.  Victor scrubbed a hand across his face and waited for Dean to fish his keys out of his pocket.  “Man, I hope today is slow.  Tuesday was a fucking mess,” he said.

Dean frowned and nodded.  “Yeah, it was brutal.  How many calls did we have?”

“Twenty three,” Victor said with another yawn.

“Fuck me,” Dean murmured as he pushed open the door.  “Who’s cooking today?  It’s not me, is it?” he asked as they walked past a couple of firefighters who were winding down from their own shifts.  He waved at them and made his way to the locker room.

“Nah man, I think it’s Benny,” Victor said.

“Oh good,” Dean said.  He swung his bag off his shoulder and stretched.  From his pocket his phone rang.

“Who the hell is calling you this early?  You got laid, Winchester?” Victor teased.

It was Dean’s turn to roll his eyes.  “Now, please tell me why would the person I slept with call me at 8 o’clock in the morning?” he asked as he pressed the answer key.

Victor shrugged.  “I dunno, you’re into some kinky shit.”

Dean ignored him and answered the phone.  “Hey Charlie,” Dean said as he propped it up on his shoulder.

“Hey you.  I’m sorry to call you this early I just...so, something huge is happening tomorrow.  And when I say huge, I mean huge,” Charlie gushed.

Dean smiled and felt a rush of affection for his friend.  He could practically see her in his mind’s eye.  She was probably sitting cross-legged in front of her laptop wearing a pair of Batman pajamas with a mug of coffee in one hand and a waffle in the other.  “And what’s so huge that you couldn’t wait ‘till tomorrow to tell me?” he asked.

“James Milton, huge,” she said.

Dean gasped despite himself.  He really didn’t think there was anything Charlie could say that would surprise him or hell, wake him up, but apparently he had been wrong to think so. “What about him?” Dean asked, eager for information.

James Milton was one of Dean’s favorite authors.  Unfortunately for him and everyone else, no one knew who he was.  He wrote fantasy novels - magic, dragons, witches, wizards, the whole nine yards.  However, what set him apart from the rest of the writers were his amazing characters, all of whom were of different shapes, colors, and sexual identities.  His writing was simple yet earnest, and his characters were all relatable.  Perhaps that was what drew Dean to the books in the first place - the main character, much like himself, was bisexual, and along with navigating the seas of powerful magic and battling the forces of evil, he also spent his time figuring himself out, wondering why he felt an attraction to both males and females.

Critics had deemed the series groundbreaking for having such a diverse array of characters, and Dean had fallen into James Milton’s web when Charlie had pushed the first novel of the planned trilogy into his hands over a year ago.  The first book, Demons of Light, had been a bestseller, and there were even talks of the books being turned into movies.  Dean hadn’t told anyone, not even Charlie, that while he read, he imagined the main character of Reikv, to be himself.  He found that even the description of the man was similar to himself, down to the green eyes and the freckles that dotted his skin.  He had decided that no one would do a good job of portraying Reikv but him, and he often laughed to himself when he imagined doing some of the things that Reikv had done in the book.

Yet, despite all of these rumors and talks, no one had managed to get even a glimpse of the author.  No one knew anything about him and the book jackets provided a sparse bio sans photo of the enigmatic man. Or woman, Dean mused.

It puzzled him.

Why would someone want to remain in the shadows?  Especially while their book was doing so well?  Wasn’t this what authors wanted? To soak up all of the praise and validation that their work was good?  He shook his head and turned his attention back to Charlie.  “What is it, did you find a picture of him?” he asked.  He could practically hear her bouncing off the walls.

“No, Dean.  He’s...he’s gonna be at Union University tomorrow for a book signing and Q & A,” she gushed.

Dean’s eyes bulged.  “What? How? Why?” He sat down on the bench feeling knots in his stomach.

“I know, right?  It was some sort of like secret thing, I don’t even know how they managed it or why he’s doing it.  I mean, I know the third book is coming out in a couple weeks so maybe he’s doing publicity?”

Dean scoffed.  “He never did publicity before...what makes this book any different?”

Charlie sighed.  “Well it is the last one.  Maybe that’s why?”

“Shit man.  That’s wild.  So we’ll finally get to see pictures of what he looks like,” Dean said with a smile.

Charlie laughed. “Pictures? Oh, no honey.  I got us passes.  We’ll be up in there, seeing him in the flesh. You and me.”

“Holy shit, Charlie.  How did you swing that one?” he asked, amazed.

She giggled.  “Don’t you worry about that.  Anyway.  I know you gotta go.  I have to go too,” she said.

“Alright.  Well, text me the info.  And I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said before hanging up.

“Will do, Deanie-weenie.  Bye.”

He cringed at the nickname and hung up the phone.  He sat there for a few moments, still in shock.  He was going to see James Milton tomorrow.   _The_ James Milton.

“Man, you alright? You look like you just won the lotto,” Victor asked.  He squinted at Dean.  “Wait, did you just win the lotto?” he asked.

Dean looked up at him and grinned.  

* * *

Just before lunch, they got a call.

“High rise on Fulton and Lafayette.  We got a smoke alarm going off on the seventeenth floor, let’s go people!” Crowley yelled.

Dean groaned and glanced longingly at the plate of spaghetti and meatballs that Benny had just put down on the table before him.  “Really?” he grumbled.

Over at the stove, Benny laughed and began to untie his apron.  “Stick it in the oven, it’ll still be here when we get back,” he said with a wink.

“Get up chubs,” Victor teased as he walked through the kitchen.  Gordon trailed behind him and shot a cold glare over at Dean.

Dean bristled and got up from his seat.  He had never seen eye to eye with Gordon.  No matter how hard he tried, they just never seemed to get along.  It wasn’t a good feeling, not being friends with someone on his team.  He knew the importance of cohesion and working together, especially as firefighters.  Still, they managed to keep things civil for the most part.  He knew that when push came to shove, he would do whatever it took to save Gordon if they ever got caught in a tight spot.  At the end of the day, they were brothers.

He could only hope that Gordon would do the same for him.

Kevin passed through next, smiling when he saw Dean.  He was the youngest of them and their newest recruit.  So far, he had been doing a great job of holding things down at the station,  but today was his first day officially out in the field.

Dean closed the oven and fell into step next to Kevin.  He slapped his shoulder lightly and smiled.  “You ready, Tran?” he asked.

Kevin grinned and shrugged.  “As ready as I’ll ever be!”

“Just…remember to breathe, okay?  I mean we don’t even know how serious this is gonna be.  It could be nothing.  But, just focus and do your best to remain calm and in control.  Don’t let the fire scare you.”

It was so easy for him to say the words.  He wanted to laugh at how seamlessly they rolled off his tongue.

Next to him, Kevin paled for a moment but he clenched his jaw and nodded.  He understood what Dean meant, what he was trying to say.  

The room was filled with the entire crew as they quickly changed into their uniforms.  Aaron and Ash always dressed the fastest and were already walking out and into the garage to ready the truck.  Their Chief, Crowley, was pulling on his boots and bent over to tie his laces together.

They all moved with a nervous energy.  They hadn’t had any calls all morning which was surprising enough, and so this one had them all on edge.

“Alright boys, it’s Friday.  Let’s go handle this and get back here before our lunch gets cold,” Crowley said.

They all chorused a loud yeah and one by one, began to filter out of the room and toward the garage.  Just as Dean finished getting ready, he realized that Kevin was still fiddling with his jacket.  Dean could see his hand tremble as he tried to fix it.

“Deep breaths, Kev.  You’ll be okay.  Come on let’s go,” Dean said gently.

“What if I can’t do this?” Kevin asked turning to Dean.

Dean sighed.  He knew exactly how Kevin was feeling.  All the months spent training, all of the pep talks given by weathered firefighters, none of it truly prepared you for your first fire.  Sure, Kevin had volunteered for a few months before actually getting hired, but he had never gone into any buildings, and yes, he had been working for a couple weeks now but Crowley hadn’t felt like he was ready.  Dean could still remember his first fire.  He remembered the heat, the smoke.  He remembered that painful moment when he thought that he was going to die, but he didn’t.  He made the choice to get up and keep moving.  He saved his own life, and since then, he had gone on to save many more.

“Kevin, look, there’s nothing I can say to you that’ll prepare you for this.  Like I said earlier, this call could be nothing, but...when you’re in there, instincts will take over.  You’ll be fine.  Trust me.” Dean smiled at him in what he hoped was an encouraging way and he turned around to leave.  “You better hurry up before Crowley leaves your ass here,” he said with a chuckle.

Behind him, Kevin quickly finished fiddling with his jacket and shut his locker.  He took a deep breath and followed Dean out of the room.  In his chest, his heart pounded painfully against its cage.

Its rhythm was unknown.

* * *

The fire turned out to be a bust.

“I still can’t believe it was just fucking burned food,” Kevin said angrily as he sat down at the table.

Across from him, Dean grinned.  “Told ya it was nothing,” he said as he speared a meatball with his fork.

“Oh shit, it was your first official call, right?” Aaron asked looking up.

“Yeah.”

“Aw, lil Kev got his cherry popped,” Ash teased as he reached across for a roll.

They all laughed.

“Well, welcome to the team,” Victor said with a wide grin.

Kevin blushed and waved him away.

“Sorry you didn’t get anything more exciting,” Aaron said with a shrug.

Crowley shot a dark look at him.  “Be thankful it wasn’t something more, exciting, as you so eloquently put it,” he snapped.

The rest of them fell silent.

Dean knew that a fair amount of firefighters were drawn to the field due to tragedy:  for Victor, it had been his neighbor’s house that had burned down when he was eight;  for Ash, it had been his cousin’s bar, consumed in a fiery blaze;  for Crowley...it had been his son - died from smoke inhalation at the tender age of 5. Crowley had never been able to forgive himself for not being able to save him.  Crowley was good at what he did, saving lives, but there were moments when he brought them all back to the stark reality of things - fire was dangerous, and it often took people away from them, in all cases, much too soon.  Dean stared down at his meal, suddenly losing his appetite.

Everyone around him slowly began to start conversations once more.  Benny smiled at him from across the table and he smiled back.

He closed his eyes. All these years later, he could still hear her screams at the back of his mind, bouncing around in his skull.

Sometimes, it felt like she had never really left him at all.

* * *

Balthazar was nervous.  He glanced over at Cas, who was sitting in a comfortable looking chair sipping whiskey out of a very expensive looking glass.

“I wish you would stop,” Cas said softly.

Balthazar frowned.  “Stop what?” he asked.

“Stop looking at me like I’m a time bomb about to blow at any second.  I’m fine, Balthazar, really,” he said.  He ran his fingers through his dark hair and leaned back into the chair.  It really was quite comfortable.  He knew why his agent wouldn’t stop looking at him - it was because of the Q&A he had scheduled tomorrow.  Perhaps Balthazar felt he wasn’t ready for the spotlight.

Balthazar turned to him, a pained expression on his face.  “Cas.”

On the chair, Cas stiffened.

“Are you sure about tomorrow? I mean, once you do this, everyone will know...including your family.”

Cas looked into his glass and sighed.  He could see light reflected in the amber liquid.  He brought the glass up to his lips and swallowed the rest of the whiskey in one gulp.  He made a face as it went down, burning the back of his throat and settling into a fiery pool in the pit of his stomach.  He felt warm now.  His blood was a wild river, heated and pumped through his veins.  He could feel his face getting hot.

Whiskey would do that to you.

Castiel understood why Balthazar felt the way he did.  They had known each other for years, and even though Balthazar was his agent, he was also his friend.  He knew the man meant well, but Cas just felt that it was about time he took his life into his own hands.

Castiel started writing after Dean left.  He didn’t understand then why the absence of his best friend fueled his creativity, but looking back at it now, he realized that he had started writing to fill a void.  Over the years, he kept writing, his stories grew larger and more grand.  He created his own worlds, his own characters, and lost himself in front of his laptop screen.  He had started working on the Demons of Light in his junior year of college and had published it under the pseudonym of James Milton, not wanting anyone to know that it was him.  What would his conservative, uptight family think of their son writing fantasy novels with queer characters?  It wouldn’t be good for business, and so he decided anonymity would be best.

That plan worked for a while, until his older brother Gabriel found out.

Since then, he had toyed with the idea of ‘coming out of the closet’, so to speak.  Even though his brother had promised to keep it a secret, Cas knew he couldn't trust him.  He found that as he rapidly approached thirty, he was tired of keeping secrets.  He wanted them to know that he had written these books.  He wanted them to know that he was proud of these achievements and of the life he had built for himself.  He wanted them to know him.

He was tired of hiding.

“Balthazar, the whole reason why I'm doing this...is so my family will know.  I feel terrible doing it in such a roundabout way but...I can’t do this anymore,” he said softly. He turned to face Balthazar and smiled at him.  It was a sad smile that didn’t quite reach the corners of his eyes.

Balthazar nodded and lowered his gaze.  “Fine.  Fine, you do what you think is best.” He rose up from his chair and stretched.  “Well, I should retire.  We have a long day tomorrow.  I hope you’ve practiced your autograph,” he said with a wicked smile.

Cas smiled back at him.

“Good night, James,” Balthazar said with a knowing wink as he opened the door.

Cas waved him away and reached for the bottle of whiskey once more.  He poured himself another drink and set it on the table.  He watched the whiskey as it rippled in his glass, larger ripples spreading from smaller ones in the middle.  He brought his hand up to his face and absently trailed his fingers across his lips.

He wasn’t sure why.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Excerpt from Demons of Light: Chapter 8** _

_Reikv was most definitely lost._

_He looked around and suddenly wished that he had taken his friend’s advice about traveling through the White Wood alone.  It was indeed tiresome and confusing and he could swear that he was walking around in circles.  The tree standing before him looked familiar, with its gnarled trunk, painfully old and white, dead branches reaching up into the rapidly darkening sky._

_“Didn’t I tell you to wait for me?” someone asked from behind him._

_He spun around, whipping out his glass dagger as he did so.  His heart was pounding in his chest and his mouth had gone dry.  When he realized that it was his friend N’hal, he nearly dropped his weapon to the ground.  “Bloody hell,” he muttered angrily, even though he was happy to see him._

_N’hal smiled at him.  “You’re lost, aren’t you?” N’hal asked, his eyes twinkling._

_Reikv flushed and shrugged.  “I would have figured it out eventually,” he said as he folded his arms across his chest._

_N’hal made a face.  “Oh, so should I leave then?” he asked._

_“No, no, wait,” Reikv said quickly._

_N’hal flashed him a wry smile. “If you kiss me I won’t tell anyone that you got lost,” he whispered._

_Reikv grinned and stepped forward.  Now that was the kind of bargain he could afford to make._

* * *

Dean closed his book and sighed happily.  He was going to take his copy of Demons of Light with him to the signing today.  A part of him still couldn’t believe it, that in a matter of hours, he would finally see him, James Milton.  He would finally get to put a face to the name.  He flipped through the book’s pages, ran his fingers down the worn spine and he smiled.

“Stop smiling so hard, you’ll break your face,” Charlie quipped.  She walked back into the living room bringing two mugs of coffee with her.

Dean leaned forward and placed his book onto the coffee table before accepting his mug from Charlie.  “Thanks,” he said.

She plopped down next to him and yawned.  “I feel like I’m always tired,” she murmured.

Dean took a sip of the coffee, appreciating its warmth.  “Me too,” he said.

“So, how’s work? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

Dean chuckled.  “That’s because you haven’t.  Work has been fine.  Kevin went on his first real run the other day.”

“Oh yeah? How did he do?”

“It was a bust. Just some food on a stove burning,” Dean said with a shrug.

“Aw, he must have been disappointed,” she said.

Dean laughed.  “He was.” He settled back into the couch and glanced at the TV stand.  He noticed that a couple picture frames were conspicuously missing.  Frames that had once held photos of Charlie and her girlfriend Gilda.  He turned to her and cocked an eyebrow.  “Charlie, where are your pictures?” he asked pointing.

Her face reddened and she suddenly became very interested in the contents of her cup.

“Charlie,” Dean said in a warning tone.

Charlie sighed loudly.  “Okay I moved them.  I couldn’t bear to look at her face anymore, is that a crime?” she asked.

Dean didn’t say anything for a few moments.  Charlie and Gilda had been together for over a year and a half.  Gilda traveled a lot as part of her job and a couple weeks ago, she had confessed that while in Philly, she had gone to a bar with some friends, had gotten drunk, and had made out with someone there.  Ever since then, Charlie had been a little down in the dumps, unsure of what to do.  Dean was shocked to see the pictures gone.  He knew that it meant that Charlie must have finally made some type of decision in regards to the situation. “So...did you guys….officially end things?” he asked delicately.

She rolled her eyes.  “God knows I want to.  But...a huge part of me is wondering if it’s smart giving up on something because of one mistake.  She’s apologized a thousand times but it still weirds me out to think about it,” she said with a shrug.

Dean contemplated this.  He understood what she meant.  What Charlie and Gilda had was something that people searched for their whole lives. And Gilda had been drunk….the kiss was a mistake, right? On the other hand, Dean could see why Charlie would hesitate.  Who knows how far Gilda could have gone, how far she could go if the circumstances were right.  What was stopping her from doing it a second time? Charlie was definitely in a tight spot.  She could let go and lose it all, or forgive her and live with a constant shadow of doubt in the back of her mind.  He didn’t envy her in the slightest.

“I just wished this stuff was easier, you know?  No one teaches you how to deal with this shit, when you’re younger,” she huffed.

Dean frowned.  “Oh, you mean you missed Gay Dating Advice 101 in college? I’m pretty sure it was a core class,” he teased.  

She smacked his shoulder. “Shut up,” she moaned.

Dean laughed.  “Look, I can’t tell you what to do with your relationship...but...from where I’m standing, what you and Gilda have...it’s a good thing, and it makes you happy.   I just know that people make mistakes.  We’re human, Charlie.  We all fuck up sometimes.  If we didn’t...we’d be robots or something,” he said.

This earned him a giggle.  “Hey, how’s Sam?  When is he coming to visit?” she asked.

Dean made a face.  His younger brother, Sam was away at Stanford finishing up his degree.  They hadn’t seen each other in months, mainly because Sam was so busy and Dean refused to get on a plane to see him.  “I have no idea.  He’s really busy.”

“Why don’t you go see him?” Charlie asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Dean scoffed at her.  “I’m not getting on a plane,” he said with a dismissive snort.

“You are such a cornball, oh my God,” Charlie said with a shake of her head.

“I don’t like planes.  I can’t do anything about that.”

“What about when he graduates?  You know he’s gonna want you to be there for him.  You have to go, Dean,” she said turning to him.

Dean grinned at her.  “We’ll road trip it!” he said excitedly.

“I’m not spending forty-plus hours in a car with you, Dean.  I love you but, no,” she said.

He pouted.  “Why not?”

She looked at him and shook her head.  “You’re gonna make me listen to Metallica, which is okay for a little while but, not okay for the amount of time I’m sure you’ll spend listening to them. And I just can’t do it.  I’m sorry,” she said with a grin.  She leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek.  “I’m gonna go shower and get dressed.  We should head out in an hour or so,” she said as she got up off the couch.

Dean sighed and looked down at his book where it was resting on the coffee table.  He scrubbed a hand across his face and yawned.  He was tired.  He had gotten home at 9 a.m., slept for a couple hours, and decided to head over to Charlie’s place a little early, just in case.  He yawned again and put his cup of coffee down on the table.  He uncurled his legs and stretched out on the couch.  He could sleep for a little while, at least until Charlie was dressed and ready to go.

He fell asleep almost immediately.

* * *

Cas stared at his reflection in the mirror.  He looked good, he thought, as he squinted at the little shadow of a beard that had begun to show on his cheeks.  He wondered if perhaps he should shave, or if the beard made him look more distinguished.  He slipped his glasses back onto his face and hummed in approval.

The beard was a good choice.

His stomach was tied up in knots.  Sometimes, he wasn’t sure how he was even able to get up in front of a classroom and lecture every day.  Just the thought of being in front of all those people later was enough to send him running, back to his bed, to hide under the covers.

“No.  No more hiding, Castiel,” he whispered to himself.  He reached into his shirt and pulled out his necklace.  It was a simple, black leather cord, with a strange amulet hanging at the end of it.  He wasn’t sure why he still kept it.  Its heavy weight against his chest was a constant reminder of things that he had lost.  He could still remember the day Dean had given it to him. He had parted with it reluctantly, but he had told Cas that he was giving it to him because he trusted him to give it back.  He closed his eyes and curled his hand around the pendant, feeling the edges prick against his palm.

He had made a promise to Dean to give it back, and he would.

* * *

  _Lawrence, Kansas 1994_

Cas couldn’t believe that Dean had just kissed him.

His lips tingled pleasantly and he blushed as he pulled away from his friend.  Dean had kissed him.  He had been dreaming of this moment for so long and for it to finally happen when Dean was leaving, well, the universe had a cruel sense of humor, or so it seemed.  He looked over at Dean who was fiddling with something in his hand.  His amulet, Cas realized.  He watched as Dean chewed down on his bottom lip and then thrust his fist out towards Cas, holding the leather cord in his fingers.

“Dean, no.  I can’t take that,” Cas said pushing him away.

Dean fumed.  “You have to.  I mean.  I want you to.  But only because you’re gonna make me a promise,” he said.

Cas turned to him, his eyes wide.  “A promise?”

“Yeah.  You have to promise to give it back.  In person.”

Cas opened his mouth but no sound came out.  He knew how much it meant to Dean.  His little brother Sam had given it to him, and Cas had never seen Dean care about any type of material possession the way he cared about that one.  “I can’t, Dean.  That’s your...that’s yours.”

Dean sighed.  He turned to Cas and closed the space between them.  Gingerly, he lifted his arms and placed the necklace over Cas’ head.  He gently tugged it down, pulling it past Cas’ ears and fixed it so it sat properly on the other boy’s chest.  He touched it, almost reverently, and then he smiled.  “I know how much it means to me.  That’s why I’m lending it to you.  Don’t lose it, Novak, or I’ll kick your ass, I swear to God,” Dean said.

Cas laughed.  He reached up and touched the amulet.  It was strangely warm between his fingers.  

“Looks good on you,” Dean said with a soft smile.  He reached forward and gently brushed his fingers against Cas’ cheek.

“I wish I could give you something too,” Cas said looking down.

Dean chuckled softly.  “There’s something you can give me,” he said.

Cas looked up and realized that Dean’s eyes were brimming with tears.

“Anything,” Cas murmured.

Dean smiled and pulled him closer.  “One more kiss.”

* * *

_Present Day_

Dean drummed his fingers anxiously against the steering wheel and glanced out the window.  It was a gorgeous day.  The sky above them was blue and several lazy clouds wafted across its expanse.  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  Even from here, he could smell the ocean.  He smiled.

Moving back here had been a big step for him.  After his parents had died, he had wanted nothing more to do with the town, and he had been more than glad to leave.  Both he and Sam had spent a few months at a group home, only to finally be adopted officially by their aunt and uncle, Ellen and Bobby Singer.  If it hadn’t been for the two of them stepping in, who knows where he and Sam would have ended up.  Dean would be forever grateful to his aunt and uncle for raising him and Sam, taking them in and treating them just like their own.

“Why don’t you put on some music?” Charlie asked dryly.  She continued to scroll through something on her phone and didn’t look up.

“Too nervous,” Dean said.

Charlie snorted.  “Nerd,” she teased.

Dean flashed her a dirty look but continued to tap his fingers on the steering wheel.  The light changed from red to green and he cruised forward, finally leaning over to flip the radio on. He fiddled with the dial for a couple moments and settled on his favorite radio station, K-Rock 98.3 FM.  He smiled as one of his favorite songs came on, and he began to tap out the rhythm of the drums with his fingertips.

Next to him, Charlie shook her head.  “See what I told you?” she said.

He frowned.  “What?” he asked.

She looked over at him and cocked an eyebrow.  “Metallica,” she said dryly.

He rolled his eyes and reached over to change the radio station.

* * *

**_Excerpt from Demons of Light: Chapter 10_ **

_Reikv woke up alone._

_In the spot next to him, he could see faint scuff marks from where N’hal had hastily rolled up his sleeping mat.  He could make out tracks leading into the woods and he cursed below his breath._

_He should have known N’hal would leave him.  He always did._

_The sun was rising and he could hear birds chirping up in the trees.  In his chest, he felt a strange sense of loss.  He should be used to it by now, the emptiness that came with N’hal’s inevitable departure.  Something about this one, however, left him cold.  Usually, N’hal would leave a note, or a glyph scratched into the dirt but this time, he had simply gone and left without leaving anything behind.  With a weary sigh, he pulled himself to a standing position and stretched.  As much as he would love to remain here and contemplate the mysteries of N’hal’s mind, he didn’t have any time to waste.  He had to make a delivery to the Lord of the Ash, and if he didn’t get there by sundown, he would be in a lot of trouble._

_With a heavy heart, he quickly packed his things and set on his way.  He noted that N’hal’s tracks were heading East, perhaps toward Wolfsbane._

_He shook his head and continued heading North._  

* * *

They were sitting in the second row and Dean could feel butterflies in his stomach.  Of all the things he had done in his life, this had to be the nerdiest.  He couldn’t really explain why he felt so drawn to this author and his story.  He couldn’t help but wonder about the person behind the books.  He wanted to know him, wanted to know what his life was about.  He was curious about what made him write these books; what were his motivations? His inspirations? He admired writing and writers in general.  He was always entranced by their strange talents, their ability to create new worlds, and somehow put them down on paper coherently enough for others to read and understand them.

The crowd was a small one, roughly a hundred people, and Dean suspected that this was because they only gave out a certain amount of tickets.  He spotted a photographer in one corner, anxiously looking up at the stage, his hand poised on his camera.  Dean shifted in his seat.  He was nervous.  The crowd around him chattered quietly and quite suddenly, the volume dropped, significantly.  A man was walking across the stage in great strides over to the podium in the middle.  He was tall and lanky with dirty blond hair and Dean felt his heart soar in his chest.  Was this him? Was this James Milton?

The man smiled at them and his blue eyes twinkled.  He held his hands up for silence and put them down once the crowd relaxed.  “Good day, everyone,” he began in a clipped British accent.  “My name is Balthazar Roche.  I am here to introduce you to one of the greatest fantasy writers of our time.  Now before we get started, I just want to give you all a quick rundown of how things will flow.  As you all know this is Mr. Milton’s first public appearance ever,”  The room erupted into a loud round of applause. Balthazar smiled and waited for them to finish. “We’ve decided that he’ll answer ten questions.  We know you all have burning things you’d like to ask Mr. Milton, however this is all the time we can afford since he will be doing a book signing afterwards.  The questions will be chosen from the bowl over here.  We thank you for taking the time to come up with them for us, and we thank you for joining us today.  Now, without further ado, please join me in giving a warm welcome to the one, the only, James Milton.”

Dean’s heart was in his throat and he clapped along with everyone else.  He glanced over at the fishbowl, filled to the brim with little slips of paper.  He could only hope that his question would be chosen.  He watched as the man named Balthazar stepped aside.  He could see him smiling at someone off stage before giving a gentle nod.  With sure steps, someone emerged from the side of the stage.  He wore a simple pair of black slacks and shiny shoes.  His button up was a deep navy blue, and he wore a blue tie with a strange gold pattern on its surface. The man, James Milton, had a crop of dark, messy hair.  His mouth was pink and his lips looked chapped.  Dean sucked in a breath when he realized that he was finally looking at James Milton.  He studied him, his eyes drinking in every detail he possibly could when suddenly, his heart plummeted into his stomach.

This man seemed familiar to him.  So familiar.  He watched as James stepped up to the mic and cleared his throat.

“Hello, everyone, I’m James Milton,” he said in a strange, gravelly voice.

“Oh, shit,” Dean whispered.

Next to him, Charlie frowned.  “What?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the stage.

Dean swallowed thickly.  The man standing on the stage wasn't James Milton. No, the man standing on the stage was his childhood best friend, the boy who had abandoned him, the boy who had never returned any of his calls or his letters.

The man on the stage was Castiel Novak.

* * *

Castiel could feel everyone’s eyes on him and his mouth went dry.  He found himself wondering if perhaps he wasn’t ready for this kind of attention.  To his left, a photographer snapped several photos of him.  He could hear the clicking of the shutter each time the man pressed his finger down on the button.  To his right, Balthazar shot him a questioning look.  Taking a deep breath, he cleared his throat and lowered his head toward the microphone once more.  He put on a smile and began to speak.

“I’m thrilled and honored to be here.  As you all know, I’ve kept my identity a secret for the past few years due to personal reasons and...now, once again, due to personal reasons I’ve decided to...share myself with you all,” he said with a grin.  “I hope to shed some light on any burning questions you all have in the coming weeks about the Demons of Light trilogy.  I’ll be taking some questions today, from the fishbowl,” he said as he glanced at the bowl off to his side.  The crowd chuckled.  “I just want to say again that I’m really...honored and humbled by you all...I’ve read letters and messages online about how my books have helped you and have inspired you and...I hold all of those stories close to my heart.”  He paused and looked around.  Everyone was staring at him, giving him all of their attention and his heart swelled in his chest.  “I guess I’ll take a couple questions now,” he said with another grin.

Balthazar walked around to the fishbowl and stuck his hand inside, pulling out a slip of paper.  “I feel like this is Miss Universe,” he joked.

Cas chuckled.

“This question comes from Garth Fitzgerald - Garth asks, Where did the inspiration for the character of Reikv come from? Thank you for the question, Garth.  James?”

Cas cleared his throat.  He knew that people would want to know things like this.  They would want to know the meanings of things, where he found the inspiration for his characters and their lives.  He had come prepared to talk about all of those things, to talk about Dean.

He had come prepared to let go.

“Reikv is based...on a friend of mine.  He’s no longer with us, but...he was...a very good friend.  Both him and Reikv share similar traits.  They’re both smart, headstrong, a little silly, and...just...an all around good person,” he said with a smile.  He swallowed thickly against a knot forming in his throat.  It had been a long time since he had spoken about Dean to anyone. His eyes scanned the crowd.  He could see many of them with their phones out, perhaps taking photos or recording him.  He blushed involuntarily.

“Next question, this one comes from Becky Rosen.  Her question reads…” Balthazar’s voice trailed off and he looked up at Cas.

Cas frowned at him.  “Balthazar?” he prodded.

Balthazar cleared his throat and smiled.  “Sorry.  The next question asks: the relationship between Reikv and N’hal is one of my favorites in the entire series so far.  My question is, will they ever get a happy ending?  Will N’hal ever stay?”

The entire crowd fell silent waiting for Castiel to answer.

He pursed his lips for a moment, unsure of what to say.  The truth was, his book was being published in three months, but he still hadn’t written the epilogue.  He hadn’t been able to decide how to end things between Reikv and N’hal.  He still had time before the book went out to print, so he wasn’t terribly worried, but it hovered at the back of his mind, an uncomfortable thing that he didn’t want to think about for as long as he could.  He smiled ruefully and looked out at the crowd.  “Now, as much as I would love to answer that question, I simply can’t.  You’ll have to wait until the third book comes out,” he said.

The crowd groaned collectively.  

He grinned and turned to Balthazar for the next question.

* * *

No.  This wasn’t Castiel.  It couldn’t be.

Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  The man on the stage who claimed to be James Milton simply looked like Castiel.  It had been a long time since he had thought about him.  To say that he wasn’t angry at him would be a lie, but to say that he didn't miss him would be an even bigger one.  James Milton had the same face, the same wide, blue eyes...the same mouth...as Castiel.  He blinked and rubbed his eyes.  Maybe he was just imagining things.  He was tired, overworked, and the anniversary of his parents’ death was rapidly approaching.  He was thinking about things that he so often tried to push aside.

No.

James Milton was not Castiel.  He couldn’t be.

Dean looked up at the stage at the man behind the microphone and he felt something curl itself around his heart.

“We have another question from Cassie Robinson, Cassie asks, the world you created in Demons of Light is so vivid and real.  Where did you grow up and did it have any influence on your creation of the world?” Balthazar asked.

Dean perked up.  Perhaps this would give him some peace of mind.  As long as James Milton didn’t grow up in Kansas, he would be good, right?

“This is awesome, right?” Charlie whispered.

Dean nodded and flashed her a weak smile.

“Thank you, for your question, Cassie.  I actually grew up in a nice little town in Kansas…” James said.

Dean’s heart dropped into his stomach.  Fuck.  Cold, clammy hands wrapped themselves around his lungs and squeezed.  He couldn’t breathe and he scrambled to get out of his seat.

“Dean, are you okay?” Charlie asked.

He nodded.  “Bathroom, I’ll be back,” he whispered as he headed down the aisle.  He felt in his pocket for his car keys.

He needed a cigarette.

* * *

_Lawrence Kansas, 2008_

Nothing much had changed.

Dean killed the ignition on the Impala and opened the door.  He stepped out of the car, listening to it as it creaked when he shut the door.  It was strange, being back here. He walked over to the gas pump and lifted the nozzle.  He could remember the last time his father had filled up the Impala’s tank here.  He flipped open the door to the tank and unscrewed the cap.

The last time he had been in this gas station he had been ten years old.  He had been mad then - mad at his mother, mad at his father for getting a new job and forcing them to relocate so far away from the place he had called home.  Sammy had only been six, too young to understand what was going on.  He knew they were moving, but he seemed to be excited by it all, the boxes, the shrink-wrap.  Dean on the other hand, had sulked, not wanting to leave.

“Do my eyes deceive me or is that Dean Winchester?” came a familiar voice.

Dean turned around and smiled when he saw her.  Missouri Moseley, his fifth grade teacher.

She looked exactly the same as she had been all those years ago.  She had lost a couple pounds, but she was still as boisterous as ever - dark skin, dark hair, and a bright smile.  She was holding a bag of groceries but put them down and opened her arms.

Dean smiled at her and accepted the hug.  He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed tightly.  She felt familiar, she felt like home.

They went to a small coffee shop nearby.  Dean got himself a slice of pie and a cup of coffee while Missouri settled for tea.

“You still like pie, I see,” she said with a smile.

Dean grinned and blushed.  “Old habits die hard,” he said.  He moaned softly as the flaky pie crust melted in his mouth.  “Man, I’ve missed this place,” he said looking around at the coffee shop appreciatively.

Missouri added sugar into her tea and stirred it slowly, waiting for the crystals to melt.  “I heard about what happened to your parents,” she said quietly.

Dean chewed his pie and nodded.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” she said sympathetically.

“Yeah...” he said softly.  He pushed a piece of pie around on his plate and realized that he had lost his appetite.  The pie in his mouth was suddenly too sweet and he wanted to spit it out.  He forced himself to swallow it and he washed the taste of it down with some coffee.

“They were so young...I just...we couldn’t believe it.  And for a while we thought...well we all thought you had..." her voice trailed off. "Where did you go?  You and your brother?” she asked changing the direction of the conversation.

Dean sighed.  He was beginning to regret this little detour on his journey.  He should have just kept going.  Why did he stop here?  What was he looking for? What was he hoping to find? “We lived in a group home for a little while, but then our aunt and uncle adopted us and we stayed with them.  I’m actually on my way to visit Sammy now. He’s at Stanford,” he said proudly.

Missouri smiled at him.  “Oh that’s wonderful.  And what about you?  What are you doing?” she asked cocking her eyebrow looking very much like a teacher in that moment.

He smiled at her.  “I'm actually...I’m a firefighter,” he said.  

Missouri smiled widely.  “Oh, Dean, that’s excellent.  Did you go to school?” she asked.

He nodded.  “Yeah, I got my undergrad degree in Forensic Science and when I graduated I just...I knew that being a firefighter was what I wanted to do so…” his voice trailed off.

Missouri reached over and grasped his hand squeezing down on it reassuringly.  “I’m very proud of you, Dean.  I’m so glad you were able to make something of yourself,” she said.

Dean swallowed thickly and nodded.  He reluctantly ate another bite of pie and swallowed it down.  Since he had bumped into her, it had taken all of his willpower not to blurt out and ask whether or not she still kept in contact with Cas.  It was the only thing he really wanted to know, and even though he was still pissed as hell, he couldn’t help it.  He was so close, if he didn’t ask about Cas now, he knew he would regret it.  “Say ah, you still keep in touch with Cas?” he asked.

She made a face.  “Cas? Oh you mean Castiel, lord, that boy.”  She shook her head.  “No.  I haven’t heard from him in years.  Why, he moved, him and his family, only about a year after you left, maybe less.”

Dean frowned.  “Do you know where they went?” he asked, curious.

She shook her head and shrugged.  “Beats me, honey.  Those Novak’s were strange folks, Castiel was probably the only normal one.  You know that,” she said shrewdly.

Dean sighed.  Even though he was upset about the way things had gone between him and Castiel, a part of him had been hoping that they could rekindle their friendship, that they could mend those old wounds.  He put his spoon down, giving up on ever enjoying the rest of his pie.  “Do you know if anyone is living at the houses? At our house? At his?  I’m sure someone’s there by now,” he said.

“At your house, yes.  You know your parents sold it to Lee Chambers and his wife.  He still lives there with his daughter Krissy.  She must be a little younger than you now...anyway.  The Novak’s, I don’t think they ever sold, they just left.  The house is still there.  Some kids broke into it once or twice but...someone came, patched up the window and...left again.  Everything’s all locked up now but...there ain’t nothing in there,” she said with a shrug.   

Dean stared out of the window.  A part of him wanted to leave.  That part of him didn’t want anything else to do with this town.  Another part of him wanted to stay.  He wanted to drive up to his old house, walk around, see how everything looked.  He glanced at his watch and sighed.  It was already 6:00 p.m.  He could call it a day.  Get himself a motel room for the night and use the last couple hours of daylight to walk up to the house, back to the lake.  He drummed his fingers on the wooden table and sighed again.

“Maybe you should stay.  Just for the night,” Missouri said quietly.

The hair on the back of Dean’s neck raised and his skin prickled uncomfortably.  Something about Missouri always set him on edge, as much as he liked her.  She always seemed to know what other people were thinking, almost as if she could read their minds.  He shook his head and smiled at her.

“I think I will,” he said.

She smiled at him.  “Good.”

* * *

_Present Day_

Cas scribbled his signature on the inside flap of a hardcover copy of Demons of Light.

The woman standing before him beamed at him when he handed the book out to her.  “Thank you so much, Mr. Milton, for everything!” she said with a grin.

He smiled up at her.  “You’re very welcome,” he said.  A part of him couldn’t believe that he was actually doing this, that he had stood on stage and talked about his characters, his process, his life.  He had signed about twenty books so far and his hand was already getting cramped.  He looked up and smiled at the next person, a lovely young woman with shoulder-length red hair.  “Hi,” he said with a smile.

The girl grinned and blushed.  “It’s such an honor to meet you, Mr. Milton,” she gushed. She held out her book to him and he accepted it with a smile.

“And who am I making this out to?” he asked.

“Charlie,” she said with a dreamy smile.

Cas grinned.  He was glad that he had done this.  He felt as though he was one step closer to making peace with it all.  Especially with Dean.  He could feel the pendant pressed up against his chest, and the thought of finally visiting Dean’s gravesite sent waves of relief through his body.  He would leave the amulet there, he thought.  He would spend some time in the town, maybe work on his epilogue until he felt like leaving to visit his parents.  “Thank you so much, Charlie,” he said with a warm smile.

She blushed.  “Thank you, Mr. Milton, I mean seriously, you...it’s really an honor,” she said again.

Cas smiled.  He closed the book and reached out to hand it to her.  The girl, Charlie, was blushing so furiously, she fumbled in accepting the book, and somehow, it slipped right out of her hand.  The pen that he had been awkwardly holding between his fingers wiggled and fell.  It rolled off the table and onto the floor.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” she moaned.

He chuckled.  “It’s okay, Charlie, really,” he said with a smile.

She groaned softly and picked up her book.  She turned to Dean who was standing behind her, smelling of cigarette smoke, an odd expression on his face.  “Dean are you sure you’re okay?” she whispered.

“I’m fine, Charlie,” he said gruffly through gritted teeth.

Charlie studied him.  Ever since he had come back inside, he had been stiff, distant, and quiet.

It scared her.

She reached out and placed a reassuring hand on his arm and squeezed.  Maybe he was just nervous, he was about to meet one of his favorite authors after all.  She stepped off to the side and watched as Dean calmly stepped up to the desk.  James’ head was bowed as he struggled to find his pen which had rolled under the table.

“I’m so sorry, who am I making this one out to?” James asked, his voice muffled.

Dean cleared his throat.  “Dean,” he said softly.

There was something about the way Dean said his name that chilled her to the bone.  She watched him as he waited for James Milton to turn toward him, arms folded across his chest.  Something was going on here, something had happened.  Her heart pounded in her chest as she glanced between the two of them.

James Milton sat up and straightened himself out.  He looked up at Dean, hand extending forward to pull the book on the table toward him.  He froze and his eyes went wide.  His bottom lip trembled and it almost looked as though he had stopped breathing.  “Dean?” he whispered, his face white as a sheet.  He slowly rose to his feet and removed his glasses from his face. “Dean, is it you?” he asked.

Dean didn’t respond.

Charlie watched as Dean’s jaw clenched, something he only did when he was angry beyond words.

She looked over at James Milton, just in time to see him fall.

* * *

Dean immediately snapped into rescue mode, watching as Cas’ eyes rolled back into his head, his body going limp as he fell onto the ground.

“Shit,” he said below his breath as he quickly ran around to the other side of the table.

Cas was sprawled out on the floor, his eyes closed.

For a moment, Dean’s mind went completely blank, fear taking over.  Had he made a mistake confronting Cas the way he did? Why did Cas even faint in the first place?  He quickly forced the wayward thoughts out of his head and focused on helping Cas.  People were starting to crowd around them both.

“If everyone could please step back, I’m a certified EMT and I need room to make sure he’s okay.  Just step back please,” he said in a clear voice.  “You, call 911,” he barked at Castiel's agent.  He turned his attention back to Cas, quickly checking to make sure he was still breathing. He let out a sigh of relief when he realized that he was.  He turned to the agent, Balthazar.  “Does he have a history of this? Fainting? Is he allergic to anything? Diabetes?” he asked quickly.

Balthazar shook his head.  He man was clearly distressed.  “No, no, not that I know of.  He doesn’t have any allergies and I’ve never known him to faint before,” he said.

Dean nodded and turned back to Cas.  He pressed his middle finger against his thumb and flicked it right beneath Cas’ eye.

Cas flinched.  That was a good sign.

Dean gingerly cradled Cas’ head, searching for blood or broken skin with his fingertips.  He found a little knot, swollen slightly from where his head had hit the ground.  He waited for Cas to open his eyes so he could speak to him and make sure he was okay.

Cas’ eyes flickered open and immediately when he saw Dean he paled.  He scrambled back but groaned when a wave of pain vibrated through his skull.

“Hey, hey, Cas relax,” Dean murmured reaching out to grasp onto his hand.

Behind him, Balthazar frowned.  Did that man just call him Cas?  He blinked.  He must be hearing things.

When Dean realized what he had done he cursed below his breath.  He had called him Cas.  He looked around, wondering if anyone had caught it.  He turned back to Cas and did his best to smile at him.  “Hey, can you tell me your name?” he asked.

Cas sucked in a shaky breath.  “James, James Milton…” he said shakily.

“What day is it?” Dean asked.

“It’s Friday, I’m at my book signing, and I fainted,” he said.

Dean nodded and let out a breath.  “Alright, you have a little bump on the back of your head. EMS should be here soon so they can give you a more thorough exam,” he said.

Cas shook his head and tears welled in his eyes.  “I fainted because…am I dead?” he asked.

Dean made a face.  “What? No, you’re not dead, you’re alive…James…um.”

“Then how are you alive?  How can you be alive?” Cas asked softly.  He blinked and tears rolled down the sides of his face.  They leaked down into his ears.  He began to pull himself up into a sitting position and he winced.

“Just stay down until they get here,” Dean soothed.

Cas shook his head again. “No, no, you’re not real, I’m…I must be unconscious,” he mumbled.

“You must have hit your head harder than I thought,” Dean mused.  He turned to Balthazar.  “Will you clear these folks out?  Book signing is over,” he said grimly.

Balthazar studied him curiously for a moment and then he nodded.  He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he intended to get to the bottom of it soon.

* * *

Dean watched as the EMT workers flashed a small light into Cas’ eyes, checking his pupils.  The crowd had cleared out, and Charlie was waiting for him outside.  He could see Cas’ eyes flickering over to him every two seconds, a look of disbelief clearly marked on his face.

“You called him Cas,” someone said softly.

Dean turned around and realized it was Cas’ agent, Balthazar.  “What?” he grunted.

“You called him Cas.  You know him…” Balthazar said quietly.

Dean made a face.  “Lots of people know each other,” he said with a shrug.

“Yes, I’m aware of that.  But people usually don’t faint when they see someone they know,” he said coolly.

Dean rolled his eyes.  “So, what?  You think he fainted because of me?”

“Castiel looked as though he had seen a ghost.  And that’s because he has.  You’re Dean Winchester, aren’t you?” he asked.

Dean shifted but avoided his gaze.  “What’s it to you?” he asked.

Balthazar rounded on him.  “Why did you do it?” he asked quietly.  His voice was thrumming with anger, his face tight, jaw clenched.

“Why did I do what?” Dean asked, confused.  

“Why did you lie?  Why did you make him believe that you were…” his voice trailed off and he lowered his gaze.

“What the hell are you talking about man?” Dean asked.   

At his sides, Balthazar curled both of his hands into fists.  He shook his head, disgust etched into every line on his face.  “Why did you make him believe you were dead?” he asked bitterly before walking over to Cas.

Dean’s heart leapt into his throat.  What?

* * *

_Lawrence Kansas, 2008_

“I really appreciate this,” Dean said to Krissy with a smile.

Outside, it had started raining.  He sat in the kitchen, his hands wrapped around another mug of coffee.  It was much stronger than the one he had sipped on at the café.  He glanced around the room, searching for remnants of his old life and was a little sad to find that there weren’t any.

Krissy had grown into a lovely young woman.  She was a year younger than him  working on a nursing degree in college.  Her mother had passed away years ago, and her father was off on a hunt.  She busied herself with pouring her own cup of coffee and then sat down across from him.  “It’s no problem,” she said with a small smile before taking a sip of her drink.  “I can only imagine what it must be like,” she said.

Dean nodded.  “Yeah I mean, I remember…my mom…” his voice trailed off and he looked down.  He remembered his mother in this very kitchen making pancakes for him and Sammy at the stove while she hummed along with a song playing on the radio.  He glanced over at the spot where the stove used to be.

“We moved a lot of things around,” she explained.

“I can see that…the stove used to be over there,” he said with a smile.

She nodded.  “I remember.  They just…remodeled the whole thing.  Made it a little bigger.  My ma was crazy about cooking and she…she just wanted a bigger space,” she said with a sad smile.

Dean stared at the doorway leading out into the other room.  There had been notches in the wood, one side for Dean, one side for Sam, marking off how tall they had grown each year.  The wood had been replaced.  He swallowed against a lump forming in his throat and suddenly wondered if coming back here had been a good idea.  All it did was make him remember his mother and father and cause his chest to ache.  It wasn’t a good feeling.

“Hey, you okay?” Krissy asked.

Dean quickly shook his head.  “Yeah just…reminiscing...” he said with a small smile.  He wracked his memory for other little nuggets of his time spent in this house.  He knew he wouldn’t find much, not after this amount of time, but he knew there had to be something in here, something that him and Sam had hidden.      

“Would you have stayed if you could?” Krissy asked.

He looked up at her and smiled.  “Yeah, I would have,” he replied softly.

Krissy remained silent and looked out the window.  “I remember you when you were little, I mean, we were both little but...I remember you and Castiel.  He used to live at the old house…you guys were…inseparable,” she said with a smile.

Dean felt his heart ache.  Of course she would remember them, it was always Dean and Cas, Cas and Dean, where one went, the other was sure to follow.

“You guys must still be friends,” she said with a knowing glance.

Dean flushed.  “Not exactly.”

Krissy frowned.  “How come?”

Dean sighed.  He wasn’t angry at Krissy for her questions; it was only natural that people would want to know.  What he hadn’t been prepared for was how much the prodding and poking would hurt him.  It was like rubbing salt into an open wound.  “We just lost touch with each other.  You know how it goes.  One person moves and…relationships fall apart.  Some friendships weren’t built to last,” he said bitterly.  He quickly took another sip of coffee to hide his face.

Krissy nodded slowly, digesting the information.  “Yeah he ah…got pretty quiet after you guys left.  I mean he was always quiet but with you…he lit up, you know?  I remember seeing him in Church and he was always so…shy, but when he was with you he was…I don’t know.  We didn’t see much of him.  He came around here a couple times while we were moving in…saw him out in the yard just…staring at the house.  I asked him if he wanted to come in but he never did…” she shook her head.

Dean perked up, taking in all of the new information.  Any information about Castiel was like water in a desert.  He grasped at the straws like a man dying of thirst.  “Do you know where he went?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even.

Krissy shook her head.  “No.  No idea.  They didn’t stay long after you guys left,” she said, echoing Missouri’s words from earlier.

Dean sighed and relaxed back into his seat.  He wasn’t even sure why he cared.  Cas, after all, hadn’t seemed to care all those years ago.  All those letters Dean had written to him, the ones he had never replied to.  Dean had been heartbroken; he had thought that Cas no longer wanted to be his friend, that he was glad that Dean had left.  As much as he hated to admit it, Dean often found himself wondering whatever became of those letters.  They had never returned to him, and he had never heard back from Cas.

Had Cas kept them?  Or did he just throw them away?

Outside, lightning flashed, illuminating the sky.  He listened for the comforting rumble of thunder that usually followed and he shuddered involuntarily.

The thunder never came.

* * *

_Present Day_

Cas’ head was pounding but the EMT’s had cleared him.  

Balthazar hovered off to the side, arms crossed anxiously over his broad chest, talking to the EMT officers, as well as the man who had claimed to be Dean.

Cas ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes.  His first public appearance had been ruined.  He couldn’t believe someone would go to such lengths, to send someone who looked like Dean to his signing, knowing how it would affect him.  He unconsciously reached up and pressed his hand against his chest, against the pendant.  There was no way that man could be Dean Winchester because Dean Winchester was dead.  He had died in a fire along with his parents.  Cas’ mind was reeling from the possibility that the man could actually be Dean.

Had he been wrong all this time?  Had he spent the past 20 years thinking that his best friend was dead when in reality he was alive and well? Cas shuddered and covered his face with his hands.  No, this couldn’t be happening.  Not now.  He felt as though he were going to lose his mind.

Balthazar walked over to him with slow, measured steps.  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

Cas squinted at him.  “Alright I suppose.  They said I could go home.  Well, back to the hotel.”

“Yes.  You’ll need some aspirin, and rest.  You suffered a great shock, it seems,” Balthazar said, lifting an eyebrow.

Cas glanced over at the man once more.  He was still speaking to the EMT officer, a woman with dark hair and liquid eyes.  They appeared to know each other.  “What did he say, Balthazar?” Cas asked in a hollow voice.

Balthazar looked at him, something troubled brewing in his eyes.  “He…I don’t know, Cas.  I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you to even talk to him,” he said sticking his hands into his pockets.

“Why not?” Cas asked.

Balthazar shook his head.  “I don’t know.  Something about it seems…wrong,” he said stiffly.

“It’s not him, is it?” Cas asked in a low whisper.  He sucked in a breath when he realized that the man was slowly walking over towards him.  The closer he got, the more Cas realized just how much he looked like Dean.  The resemblance was remarkable.

“You dropped this,” the man said as he held out Cas’ glasses.

Castiel accepted them gratefully and slipped them onto his face.  When he looked up at the man, everything finally in focus, there was no denying it.  It was Dean Winchester, it had to be. There was no other explanation.  “Dean is it really you?” he asked.

Dean glanced over at Balthazar whose lips were pressed down into a thin line.

“Cas don’t you think we should head back to the hotel now?” Balthazar asked.

Cas waved him away.  “Go, Balthazar.  I’ll take a cab,” he mumbled.

“Cas,” Balthazar said.

Cas sighed.  “Balthazar, please.”  The two men stared at each other for a moment until Balthazar shrugged.

“Fine, have it your way,” he muttered angrily before walking away.

Cas turned back to Dean and blinked back tears.  “Dean?” he said again, his voice shaky.

Dean swallowed thickly and lowered his gaze.  “Yeah Cas, it’s me,” he said weakly.  He felt something inside of him shake and suddenly he was on the edge of tears.

Cas reached out with a trembling hand.  He wrapped his fingers around Dean’s arm and squeezed it tightly.

Dean hissed at the pressure of Cas’ nails digging into his skin but he said nothing.  “You’re not going to faint, again, are you?” Dean asked with a soft smile.

Cas blinked and several fat tears rolled down his cheeks.  “It’s really you,” he said as he pulled himself up to a standing position.

Dean automatically reached out for Cas’ arm, steadying him as he rose to his feet.  His fingers curled protectively around Cas’ wrist.  God, how he had missed him.  He had missed him so much.  He closed his eyes and drew in a shaky breath.

“Dean,” Cas whispered again.  He said Dean’s name with reverence, as though he were scared that Dean would slip away if he pushed too hard or spoke too loud.  He looked up into Dean’s eyes.  They were as green as he remembered.  And the freckles.  There were more now that Dean was older, there were more lines on his face too, little wrinkles etched at the corners of his eyes.  His nose looked a little crooked but his mouth was the same, just as pink and lush as ever.  Their faces were mere inches apart, and Cas couldn’t stop looking at Dean.  His mind was spinning, throbbing, and he just couldn’t understand how in a matter of moments his entire world had seemingly tipped over and turned upside down.  “I thought you were dead,” Cas said.

Dean was slowly beginning to put the puzzle pieces together.  Something about this story wasn’t right, but this wasn’t the time nor the place to figure it out. “Listen, I should…get you back to your hotel, Balthazar was right, you need rest, Cas,” Dean said gently.

Cas’ eyes flashed darkly.  “I’ve spent the last 20 years thinking that you were dead.  I came here to…” he shook his head.  “No.  I can’t…” his voice trailed off and his bottom lip trembled.

“Okay, okay,” Dean soothed.  “How about this…we go back to your hotel…you get your things, and you stay with me at my place.  I have a guest room, you could relax, rest…” he said.

Cas observed him for a few moments and then he nodded.  He wiped his tears away with the back of his hand and sighed.  “Okay, Dean,” he murmured.           


	3. Chapter 3

After dropping off a very confused Charlie at home, Dean and Cas had stopped off at his hotel room, where he quickly shoved his things into his little suitcase, and eagerly checked out down in the lobby.  As he signed his name on a form, he felt a twinge of guilt for not telling Balthazar where he was going but he shoved it away, preferring to deal with those emotions later. Right now, there was only one thing on his mind: Dean.

The drive to Dean’s house was quiet.  Cas stared out the window, watching as the town rolled by, doing his best to calm the ocean of thoughts thrashing around in his head.  There were so many things to process, so many things that he needed to make sense of.  He unconsciously reached up and touched the pendant hidden beneath his shirt.  It comforted him for a moment and he relaxed into his seat.  He had come to this town with the intention of letting Dean go, with the idea that perhaps after this trip, he would finally breathe a little easier.  He chanced a glance at Dean whose eyes were glued to the road.  How was this even real? How was it that Dean was alive? That he had a house and a car? That his heart was beating in his chest?  Cas sucked in a breath and turned back to the window.  He pressed his head against the glass and closed his eyes.  He fell asleep.

When he woke up, he realized that the car had stopped.  The car was parked in a driveway and he squinted as he looked through the windshield. Dean was sitting on his porch steps, drinking a beer.  He could see his luggage and other things on the porch, next to the door.  With a soft groan he opened the door and stepped out of the car.  “How long was I out?” he asked as he walked over to Dean.

Dean shrugged.  “Not long.  I was gonna wake you up in a couple minutes,” he said.

Cas gingerly lowered himself onto the porch step next to Dean.  He could smell the ocean salt on the air.  “I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas said.

“What are you apologizing for?” Dean asked as he took a swig of his beer.

Cas scratched the back of his neck.  What was he apologizing for? For thinking Dean was dead all this time? For never believing that he was alive? For never looking for him? “For everything,” Cas whispered.

Dean turned to him and frowned.  “Where have you been, Cas? I mean…twenty years?” he asked.

Cas sucked in a breath. So they were jumping right into it.  No small talk.  “I could use a beer,” he said with a squint.

Dean cocked an eyebrow and then he nodded, perhaps realizing that Cas wasn’t yet ready to talk.  “Let’s get your stuff inside,” he said.

Cas smiled gratefully and took a deep breath.

Dean extended a hand to help him up and Cas smiled again.  Dean was always looking out for him, even when they were kids, always pulling him up, helping him out of tight spots, taking care of him when no one else would.

He was glad to see that after all these years, at least that hadn’t changed.  

* * *

Cas found Dean in the kitchen, standing in front of the stove.  The entire room smelled good, and he sniffed the air, trying to figure out what Dean was cooking.

“Hey,” Cas said softly.

Dean turned around and smiled when he saw him.  “Hey.”

Cas padded over to the beautiful wooden table in the middle of the room and sat down. He continued to dry his hair with his towel and watched Dean as he cooked.  Dean placed his spoon down on the countertop next to the stove and walked over to the fridge.  He opened it and pulled out a beer.  “I’m not sure if you should be drinking after you fainted,” he said skeptically.

Cas rolled his eyes.  “I’m not sick, Dean.  I fainted because…” his voice trailed off.

Dean placed the bottle down on the table and walked back over to the stove.

Cas was pleased to see that Dean had changed.  He now wore a pair of black shorts and an old white t-shirt that looked soft and worn.

“You wanna talk about that?  About why you thought I was dead?” Dean asked without turning around.

Cas listened to the sound of something sizzling in a pan on the stove and he sighed.  He took a sip of his beer and shivered.  It was ice cold.  “You don’t…beat around the bush, huh?” Cas asked.

“No time,” Dean said brusquely.

Cas noted that even though Dean’s language was clipped and tight, for the first time since he had seen him, he was relaxed.  Cas could see the little droop in Dean’s shoulders, the way he took his time as he mixed and stirred whatever he was making.  Cas smiled.  “Do you want the long version or the short one?” he joked.   

“Any version, Cas, at this point,” he replied tersely.

Cas was taken aback at the anger in Dean’s voice.  Maybe staying here with him wasn’t such a good idea.

Dean put the spoon down once more and turned around.  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.  He folded his arms over his chest.  “I just…it’s been a long time, and I just want some answers,” he said.

Cas nodded.  “It’s alright, I understand…I…” his voice trailed off and his picked up his beer.  “Where should I begin?” he asked looking up at Dean.

Dean shrugged and smiled thinly.  “How about at the beginning.”

Cas curled his fingers around the glass bottle and smiled grimly.  The beginning.  

It had been so long ago.

* * *

_Lawrence Kansas 1994_

Cas couldn’t believe it, Dean was actually gone.  He felt hollow and numb as he stared up at Dean’s old house.  He could still see the tire tracks in the dirt from where the Impala had dug into the earth on its way out of the town.  Tears stung at his eyes and he blinked.

Before leaving, Dean had told him that they were moving to some town called Union, somewhere on the East coast.  He had told Cas that they didn’t have an actual address yet, but as soon as they did, Dean would write him and let him know where he was staying.

Cas had nodded and wiped away tears that had rolled down his cheeks without his permission.  They had been in the back, sitting on the old wooden swing.

Now, he was alone, really and truly alone.

He reached up and clutched the pendant that was sitting on his chest.  It was still warm, and he curled his fingers around it, feeling the hard edges as they bit into his skin.  He dreaded going back home.  He wasn’t ready to deal with his family and all of their questions.  He looked up at the house once more and decided that he would go back to the swing and sit there for a while.

It was the only thing he could really do.

* * *

_Present Day_

“After you left I was devastated,” Cas said softly.

Dean wrapped his fingers around a mug of coffee and remained silent.  A part of him couldn’t believe that Cas was actually sitting at his table. After all these years, he was here, in the flesh. He wanted to reach out and touch him, to make sure he was real but he stopped himself.  He was still wary and he wanted to hear what Cas had to say before he allowed himself to have any sort of reaction.

“My parents…humored me for a little while but…you know how they are,” he said with a shrug.

“They still alive?” Dean asked, unable to help himself.

Cas nodded.  “Yes, both of them.  They…they’re doing well.”

Dean smiled softly.  “Good to hear.”

Cas took a sip of his beer, thankful for the little nudge it gave him.  “I waited…for a letter…a phone call…neither of them ever came,” he said tiredly.  “I figured you had given up on me, that you…found new friends.  I didn’t blame you, I wasn’t mad.  You were living in a bright new place, somewhere better than our backwards old town.”

Dean looked down and didn’t respond.

Cas continued.  “I went along with it for a couple months, moped around…and then we heard the news…your parents…the fire…” his voice trailed off.

Dean looked up, interested to see Castiel’s face as he talked about this.  His eyes were sorrowful and downcast.  His breaths were deep and slow and he fiddled with a ring on his finger.

“Only…when we found out about your parents, we found out about you too. Everyone was saying that you had died in the fire.  That Sam was the only one who survived.”

Dean sucked in a breath, startled.  He wasn’t sure if he believed it, not yet.

“I went online, did some searching but, you know how shit was back then, it was 1994,” he said with a little chuckle.  “I found…some random blurb from a newspaper about the fire.  Hell I was surprised I was even able to find anything at all.  Anyway, it basically said that the entire house burned down…and that the parents and the oldest son didn’t make it out alive.  After that I kinda…shut down for a little while…” he said.  “My parents…they didn’t know what to do so…they decided to move. Figured it would be best if I left the town.  They were right. Everywhere I turned I saw you…I would go to the house and just stare at it, waiting for you to pop your head out the window and smile…I’d go to the tree house…and just sit there for hours…” he said softly.

Dean felt some of his anger lessen.  As he observed Cas, his bowed head, his stooped shoulders, his hand, curled into a fist he realized that he wasn’t lying.  Why would he lie about something like that?  He tentatively reached forward for Cas’ hand and Cas looked up, surprised.

There were tears in his eyes.  “Dean?” he asked questioningly.  He accepted Dean’s hand with his own, threaded their fingers together and he closed his eyes.  Tears rolled down his cheeks, down to his chin where they hung precariously before falling onto the table.  “I’m so happy you’re alive, Dean.  I’ve had this daydream…for years…I never thought it would actually come true,” he said with a little smile.

Dean swallowed thickly and looked away.  It was too much for him, too much for him to handle.  His heart was hurting in his chest and Cas’ hand was warm against his own.  He had been dreaming of Cas’ mouth for years, he had been wondering what he looked like, if his hair was still soft, if he still smelled like the rain before the storm, and now Cas was here, in his kitchen, as though nothing had happened, as though the past twenty years were simply some kind of joke.  He quickly let go of Cas’ hand and got up, walking over to the stove.  He opened the pot and began to stir the chicken around so it wouldn’t burn.  The knot in his throat hurt and he wanted to curl up in a corner and cry.   
  
How was this even real?

“If you want me to leave…I can.  And I would understand,” Cas said softly.  

A part of him did want Cas to leave.  A very small part.  The part that didn’t trust that this was actually happening.  He turned around and observed Cas.  The kitchen suddenly felt too small, and he wished that he was on the beach, staring out at the miles of endless water, stretching out to the horizon.  He wanted the waves beating on the shore, he wanted the comforting rumble and roll of the water being pushed forward and pulled back in.  He wanted the salt on the air and in his lungs.  He glanced over at Cas who was staring at him, a curious expression on his face.  

“Dean?”

Dean looked away and turned around.  He turned off the stove and closed his eyes for a moment, processing.  “Say, ah, how do you feel about a quick walk down to the beach? Maybe we can pick up something to eat along the way?” he asked.

“What about the food?” Cas asked gesturing to the stove.  

Dean shrugged.  “I’m not in the mood for this right now,” he said simply.  

Cas hummed and then nodded.  “Alright.  Let me go put some clothes on,” he said.  He flashed Dean a small smile and got up from his seat.  

Dean watched him as he walked out of the kitchen, a ghost from his past, walking back into his life.  


	4. Chapter 4

It didn’t take them long to get to the beach.  

Cas could hear the squawking of sea gulls in the distance and he smiled.  It had been so long since he’d been to the beach, and his heartbeat quickened as they got closer to the ocean.  He glanced over at Dean, only to see a brooding expression on the man’s face.  He realized that he didn't really know Dean anymore.  The Dean he knew was a Dean from twenty years ago. That Dean was the one he had fallen in love with, with his green eyes and his freckles and his easy smile.  This Dean was foreign to him and somewhat aloof.  It made his heart ache knowing that the man he had spent all of his life missing and pining over was now right next to him.  He reached up and brushed his fingers against the pendant that lay hidden beneath his shirt.  He found himself feeling reluctant to give it up, but a promise was a promise.

“So, Cas you never told me…why here? I mean for your whole…book signing thing?” Dean asked.  

Dean pulled out a blanket from his tote bag that said UNION FD on it and he spread it out on the sand.  He kicked off his shoes and lowered himself to the ground, looking out at the ocean.  

Cas did the same and settled down onto the sheet as well.  He folded his legs beneath him and tilted his head back, staring up into the sky.  “I came here to say goodbye,” he said.

Dean frowned.  “To who?”

Cas turned to him.  “To you, Dean,” he said softly.  

In the distance the sun began to sink lower and lower, sending out a brilliant chorus of pinks and oranges into the clouds.  

“I’ve been…toying with the idea of coming here for years but I couldn’t bring myself up to actually doing it.  But now…my third novel is nearly finished, I just…it felt like closure.  And I came to give you this…well, to leave it on your gravestone,” he said with a rueful grin.  He reached into his shirt and curled his hand around the pendant once more.  He almost felt like he was giving up a part of himself, and as he removed the chain from around his neck he felt a little smaller than before.  He held it out to Dean, feeling a thrill run through his body as Dean’s fingers brushed his own.  

“You…you kept this?  All these years?” Dean asked softly.  He looked down at the pendant sitting in the palm of his hand.  

Cas squinted and nodded.  “It was the only thing I had…that had been close to you,” he said quietly.  

Dean fell silent as he continued to stare at the pendant.  “Shit.  You really thought I was dead, didn’t you?” he asked, his voice shaking.  

Cas turned to him and nodded, tears prickling at his eyes.  “Yes, I did.”   

Dean stared down at the pendant in the palm of his hand.  He could still remember the day when he had given it to Cas.  He could remember the way Cas’ mouth had felt pressed up against his own, the softness and the warmth, and finally, something inside of him shook.  The piece of him that had felt reluctant and wary of Cas fell away and dissolved and he turned to him, to his friend, who was finally back in his life after all these years.  There were tears in his eyes as he looked at Cas.  “Cas I…I don’t know what to say,” he said.  

Cas reached out tentatively and opened his hand.  

Dean accepted it and they threaded their fingers together.  It wasn’t much, but it was a start.  “So…James Milton, huh?” he said softly.  

Cas grinned and looked down.  “I started writing after you left,” he said.  

Dean nodded.  There were still so many things he wanted to know, so many things he wanted to ask Cas.  He wanted to know what he had been doing for the past twenty years, where he had worked, if he had fallen in love, if he had gone to school.  He wanted to know if Cas had ever gotten any of his letters, and if so, what had he done with them? The necklace was heavy in his hand, the bronze pendant carried a lot of weight despite it’s small size.  Cas had been wearing this for twenty years, who was he to take it back from him now?  With a small smile he turned to him.  “You should keep this,” he said softly.  

Cas’ eyes widened.  “No, Dean.  I came here to return it to you,” he said.

Dean rolled his eyes.  “And now I’m giving it to you.  You’ve been wearing it for like a million years, just keep it, Cas.”

Cas looked up at him.  “That’s what it felt like, you know,” he said softly.

“What?” Dean asked.

“The past twenty years.  Like a million years.”

Dean gingerly leaned forward and slipped the necklace over Cas’ head once more, just like he had done all those years ago.  The cord caught on his ears and Dean smiled.  

Cas looked down at the pendant which was now nestled back in its usual spot and he smiled.  His heart was thumping wildly in his chest, his mouth dry.  “So…you and Charlie…is she your…” his voice trailed off.

Dean laughed and shook his head.  “What? God, no.  Charlie is my best friend.  We do nerdy stuff together.  Like go to book signings,” he said with a knowing glance.  

Cas’ cheeks flushed and he smiled.  “Oh.”

Dean absently scratched his chin and looked out at the water.  “What about…you and…Balthazar?” he asked awkwardly.  

Cas squinted and shook his head.  “Oh, no.  I love him, yes, but as a friend.  He’s a good friend.”

Dean chuckled and nodded.  “So…”

“Are you angry at me, Dean?” Cas asked quietly.  

Dean looked over at Cas and was suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to kiss him, to feel his mouth pressed up against his own.  He wondered if his mouth was still as sweet as it had been all those years ago.  He shook his head and turned his gaze back to the ocean.  “No, I’m just…a little shook up, that’s all.”

“Would you like to walk along the shore?” Cas asked, not looking over at Dean.  

Dean swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly dry.  His stomach was filled with the wings of a dozen butterflies, flitting around, making him anxious.  “Sure,” he said. He quickly got up from the blanket and helped pull Cas to a standing position.  

* * *

As they walked along the shore, neither of them spoke.  It seemed as though words simply could not cover the vast amount of feelings they both shared, each of them rummaging through their own private collection of memories about the other.  

Dean found that he was feeling more comfortable being next to Cas, and that most of the anger he had been holding on to over the years was starting to fade.  Unlike Cas, he hadn’t labored under the impression that he had been dead.  He looked over at Cas who had a serene expression on his face.  The wind tousled his hair and Dean wished he could reach out and run his fingers through the dark brown strands.  

Cas, on the other hand, still felt as though he were in some type of dream.  He stopped walking and looked down at the sand.  The tide rolled in and cool water gently lapped at his toes. “You know, I keep thinking I’m going to wake up, and that this was just…” his voice trailed off.

Without thinking, Dean reached for Cas’ hand and threaded their fingers together.  

Cas looked over at him, surprised.  

“This isn’t a dream, Cas,” he said quietly.  He squeezed down on Cas’ hand and smiled.  “This is real.”

Cas blinked back tears and nodded.  He swallowed thickly against the knot forming in his throat, but try as he might, he was unable to keep the tears from flowing. “Oh great, now I’m crying,” he said with a little laugh.  

Dean chuckled lightly and pulled Cas closer toward him.  

Cas allowed himself to be guided and soon enough, he found himself standing right in front of Dean.  He was close enough to see the freckles on his face, the little flecks in his eyes.  He could see the little lines that formed at the corners of his eyes as he squinted in the setting sun and he could see his lips, parted, teeth barely showing in his mouth.  All Cas wanted to do was lean forward and kiss him.  He wanted to press their mouths together and really kiss him, pouring the past twenty years of hurt out of himself and into something else.  

“Cas…” Dean murmured.  He drew in a shaky breath and reached forward to cup his cheek with his hand.  He gently brushed his thumb across his cheekbone, watching as Cas’ eyes fluttered closed.  

“Dean…I…” his voice trailed off.

Just as a wave crashed into the shore, Dean leaned over and kissed Cas, tentatively pressing their lips together.  He moaned as their mouths melded, the sound of the ocean creating a backdrop for their first kiss in twenty years.  He found himself smiling as Cas’ hand crept up to his arm, his fingers curling around it and squeezing down.  Cas kissed him like a dying man, as though it were his last kiss, and Dean leaned into it, their bodies molding together, aligning all of their chipped and broken pieces while the sun set in the sky.    

“Dean,” Cas whined softly.  

Dean slowly pulled back, his hands on Cas’ waist, and stared into his best friend’s too blue eyes.  He blinked and licked his lips, wondering what had just happened. His heart beat rapidly in his chest, and it was almost painful.  What had he done?  “Shit, I’m so sorry, Cas,” he mumbled quickly.  He removed his hands from their perch feeling his face burn in shame.  He was acting like a boy, like a ten year old boy, he realized with a bitter chuckle.  He began to move away when Cas reached out and pulled him back in.

“No,” Cas whispered.  “Don’t leave me again,” he said, his eyes closed.  

Dean felt as though there were an orange lodged in his throat.  He licked his lips and extended his arms, wrapping them around Cas’ middle and hugging him close. “I’m sorry I left you Cas, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, the words finally leaving his mouth.  He felt lighter from having spoken them.  “I’ve missed you so much.”

Cas hugged him even tighter.  “Me too, Dean.  Me too.”   

* * *

_December 1994_

Dean couldn’t sleep.  He stared at the smaller mattress above his own where his little brother slept peacefully, or so he thought.

“Dean?” came Sammy’s voice.  

Dean shifted on his bed.  “Yeah, Sam?”

Sam remained silent for a moment.  “Do you think Mom and Dad are in heaven?” he asked.  

Dean licked his lips and shook his head.  More than anything, he wished he had answers for Sam.  He wished he could tell him something that would help him sleep at night.  “I guess so,” he said quietly.  He could almost hear the wheels turning in Sam’s head above him.  

“Do you know what I want the most for Christmas?” Sam asked softly.

Dean closed his eyes.  He knew what Sam would say.  He would want his mom and his dad back, whole, healthy, and alive.  Dean swallowed thickly and shook his head.  “Those Power Rangers action figures?” he asked with a slight smile.  

Above him, Sam chuckled.  “I wish.  Nah. For Christmas…I just want you to be happy, Dean,” he said.  

Dean felt tears prickle at his eyes and when he opened them, several fat drops rolled down his cheeks.  He cried for his brother’s innocence, for his parents, he cried for himself, hell, he even cried for Cas, wherever he was.  He did his best to hide the sniffles from Sam, but he realized that his brother was already climbing down the wooden ladder to come lay beside him.  

Sam crawled into his bed but didn’t say anything.  They fell asleep next to each other, both of them dreaming of the ghosts of their past Christmases.  

* * *

_Present Day_

Cas wasn’t sure what was happening between him and Dean.  Something had shifted, surely, but it was still strange seeing him, feeling him next to him after all this time.  It was hard for him to wrap his mind around the fact that Dean was actually here, warm and solid, pressed up against him.  How many nights had he gone to sleep, dreaming of what this would feel like? How many mornings had he woken up on the edge of tears, mind still reeling from the echoes of a similar dream?

Slowly, they untangled themselves from each other, but Dean did not let go completely.  He held on to Cas’ hand and Cas smiled quickly before they began walking along the shore once more.    

“What do you do, Dean?” Cas asked, squeezing Dean’s hand.  

Dean smiled and flushed.  “I…ah…I’m a firefighter,” he stuttered out.  

“Wow…well that makes sense,” Cas said.  He glanced over at Dean, at the darkening expression on his face.  “Since you responded so quickly when I fainted,” Cas said.  

Immediately the cloud vanished and Dean smiled and puffed out his chest.  

This warmed Cas’ heart.  

“Yeah, I’ve been doing it for about six years now,” he said proudly.  

“Wow, that’s…a long time,” Cas said with a little smile.  

“What about you? Besides…you know, writing?”

Cas squeezed down onto Dean’s hand to make sure it was real.  “I teach English at a small Liberal Arts college in Oregon.”

“That sounds…cute,” Dean said with a grin.  

Cas stopped walking once more and bent over to pick up a shell that had just drifted up to his feet.  “Dean? Did you ever look for me?” he asked.  

A wave crashed onto the shore and suddenly, Dean was there again, he was back in Kansas, sitting at the table with Krissy in his old home, talking about Castiel.  He remembered Missouri, the way her mouth curled into a strange sort of smile.  He remembered the taste of the pie, the sweetness of it in his mouth.  It had been so long ago yet still, it felt like it had happened just yesterday.  “I went back…once,” he said softly.  “Home.  Back to Lawrence.”

Cas studied the shell in the palm of his hand. It was mostly white but there were little splotches of brown and silver on the inside.  He had never gone back to Lawrence.  He had tried once, but it had been too painful.  Too many memories that made him feel ragged and raw on the inside.  He knew that if he went back to Lawrence, the dam inside of his mind would burst, and he wasn’t sure if he would ever recover.  

“It was weird going back there, man.  I asked around if anyone knew where you were but no one did, and I didn’t press the issue.  I was pretty mad at you back then,” Dean said softly.  

“You thought I had abandoned you,” Cas said.  

Dean nodded and looked away.  Those memories still made him feel…exposed and vulnerable.  “Yeah.  I thought…a lot of things.  I wrote you letters for a while and…” He shrugged.  “I never heard back from you so I figured you just…didn’t want to talk to me anymore.”

“You sent me letters?  But I never…got anything from you, Dean.  I thought you would have sent me something, a postcard at least.  It got to the point where I would rush home from school just to see if I could catch the mailman.  I never did,” he said softly.

Dean felt his heart sink in his chest.  He had written Cas so many letters, telling him about their new home, about how much he missed him and wished he could kiss him again.  Where had they all gone?  “Maybe they got lost in the mail?” Dean asked.

Cas shrugged.  He pulled his arm back and tossed the shell into the rolling waves.  “I wish I had gotten at least one of those letters,” he said bitterly.  “Then…” his voice trailed off.

Dean turned to him, a curious look on his face.  “Then what?” he asked softly.

Cas smiled at him sadly and reached for his hand once more, squeezing it gently.  “Then we wouldn’t have wasted all this time.”


	5. Chapter 5

Back at Dean’s house, Cas found himself sitting on the sturdy mattress in the guest room and staring out the window.  He could hear the ocean in the distance if he closed his eyes and really paid attention.  Dean was in the shower, leaving Cas alone to make some sense of the jumbled emotions in his chest.

There was a little wooden table in the corner of the room, painted white.  Cas could see the little flecks of brown showing where the paint had peeled.  There was a stiff chair that didn’t look too comfortable, but he decided that it was better than nothing.  He pulled out his laptop from its case and walked over to the table so he could set up a small work space.

Of course, he didn’t know if Dean would be okay with him staying.  He knew that this was Dean’s space and he didn’t want to overstep his bounds.  Still, he continued to set up the desk. He placed his laptop in the middle and powered it up.  Next, came his notebooks, which he placed next to the laptop on the right side. After that, his novels, the books he often found himself going back to for inspiration, old tattered copies that had pulled him through some of the most difficult periods in his life.  Those he placed on the left side of the laptop.  He touched the cover of Wuthering Heights almost reverently, but instead of leaving it there, he picked it up and went back over to the bed.

He watched as his MacBook went to sleep, the screen dimming and then turning off completely on its own.  He would start working on the last bits of his book tomorrow.  For tonight, he simply wanted to curl up against his pillows and read.

About thirty pages in, he was interrupted by a soft knock on the door.  “Come in,” he said sitting up.  He smiled when Dean walked into the room.  His hair was still damp looking and messy and Cas could see some beads of water glistening on his shoulders.

Dean smiled at him.  “I just wanted to make sure you’re…” his voice trailed off when he saw the little table in the corner.  “Wanted to make sure you’re settled in,” he finished.

Cas closed his book and nodded. “Yes.  I hope you don’t mind I put my things on the table…I thought I could perhaps get some writing done tomorrow before I go back to the hotel.”

Dean made a face.  “You’re going back to the hotel?” he asked as he padded into the room.  He sat down on the edge of the bed and glanced at Cas.

Cas absently scratched his chin and shrugged.  “I don’t want to encroach on your space, Dean,” he said quietly.

Dean chuckled and shook his head.  “Cas I haven’t seen you in twenty years.  You can encroach all you want,” he said with a warm smile.

Cas looked down at the book in his lap and he smiled.

“You know, you never did sign my copy of Demons of Light,” Dean teased.       

Cas huffed out a laugh.  “Sorry, I was too busy passing out,” he joked.  He looked up and realized that Dean was staring at him, something flashing dangerously in his green eyes….hunger, Cas noted.  Though hungry for what, Cas wasn’t sure.  He found himself paying attention to the swell of Dean’s lips, remembering how soft they had felt pressed up against his own on the beach.  He wanted Dean’s hands on him, he wanted Dean to kiss him and hold him and make love to him, he knew that for a fact.  He wasn’t sure how Dean felt…wasn’t sure if he was misinterpreting the strange look in his eyes.  He found himself suddenly feeling angry.  For the past twenty years, he had thought that Dean was dead.  He wished he could go back in time and save himself from all of the anguish he had gone through, but he realized that without that pain, he wouldn’t be the person he was today.

“Dean…” Cas murmured, his voice thrumming with need.

Dean inched closer to him and reached forward to remove his glasses.  After Dean took the glasses off Cas’ face, he placed them on the bedside table and cupped Cas’ face in his hands. He took his time, stroking Cas’ cheekbones with his thumbs and smiled.  He could sense what Cas wanted, what he needed.  He was starved for touch, for fingers splayed out on his skin, for lips biting and sucking and kissing his flesh.  Dean could feel his cock stir and he ignored it for a moment as he leaned in and kissed Cas.  As much as he wanted to peel off all their clothes and bury himself in Cas, he knew that he couldn’t do that, he needed to take his time, for Cas’ sake, and for his own.    

Cas arched forward, wanting to feel Dean’s lips against his own.  He was burning from the inside out, a flame that had been kindling for years. He groaned as he felt Dean press up against him.  He reached up, scrambling for purchase, and grasped onto Dean’s arms.  He could feel wetness on his fingers, the remnants of Dean’s shower, seeping into his own pores.  He wanted Dean so badly, needed him, more than anything in the world.

Dean moaned softly and curled his hands around Cas’ forearms.  He slowly inched his way closer to Cas’ wrist and suddenly, Cas sucked in a breath and pulled away.  “Shit, Cas, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” Dean mumbled.

Cas, whose face had gone as white as a sheet shook his head.  “No, it’s not that…it’s just…” his voice trailed off and he glanced over at his left arm where Dean’s hand was still circled around his wrist.  He hadn’t been with someone in so long, he had almost forgotten how awkward he sometimes felt about his body, about his scars.

Dean looked down at Cas’ hand and gingerly turned it over, letting out a soft gasp when he saw the faded marks.  There was a single long one, hidden, almost gone, but still visible, and a few smaller ones around it.  Dean had seen these before, a call from about three years ago, a sixteen year old girl in her bathtub.  He could still see the blood when he closed his eyes, the silver razor, dull with use.  She had been hacking away, making long cuts instead of short ones.  The long ones were the ones that killed you faster.  He suppressed a shudder and looked up at Cas who could no longer meet his gaze.  “Cas?” he murmured.

Cas pulled his arms away from Dean and folded them over his chest.  “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said.

Dean made a face.  “Why are you apologizing?”

Cas looked up and shrugged.  “Most people get kind of uncomfortable when…”

Dean swallowed thickly.  “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to…”

“I was depressed for a while.  Little patches, in and out.  I hit my lowest point around 18…that’s when this happened,” he said, gesturing to his arm.

Dean nodded but didn’t respond.

“When I got back from the hospital…I started writing Demons of Light.  Working on it was…the only thing that saved me. I mean, I took meds but…writing, and really taking better care of myself, helped.  It was a really weird time for me, before that, before I started writing seriously,” he said.

Dean couldn’t judge Castiel for what he had done.  He too had experienced his fair share of dark moments, in fact, he was sure that Cas wouldn’t be too thrilled to find out that he often dreamt of his parents being burned to death.  He didn’t want to tell Cas that he had stopped bringing company over because he was tired of waking them up in the middle of the night with his nightmares, as though he were a little child.

Cas ran a finger along his scars and he shook his head.  What had he been thinking back then?  It was something he often wondered.  Looking back on it now, it was all a blur, though, he could still remember the sharp pain searing against his skin as he had sliced it open with the scissors.  Ribbons of blood had flowed down his arms, trailing into his hands and then into the sink before he had collapsed.

If Balthazar hadn’t found him, he would surely have died right there on those cold tiles.

* * *

_December 2002_

“Am I dead?”

Balthazar opened one eye and looked down at his friend who was lying in a hospital bed.  He wore a white gown and was covered up to his waist with a thin blanket.  He tried not to glance at the bandages on Cas’ left arm but they stood out, stark white against his skin and he shuddered. When he closed his eyes, he saw Cas on the floor of the bathroom, pale, blood everywhere, the cuts had been so deep.  He quickly opened his eyes and found his friend staring at him curiously.

“Balthazar…” Cas mumbled.

“You’re alive, Castiel,” he said.  He did his best to keep any anger or irritation from bleeding out into his words.  He had only known Castiel for a few months, and the boy had seemed nice enough.  Balthazar knew that from time to time, Castiel would suffer from bouts of depression but he had no idea that it would have ever progressed so quickly to this.  He felt sad for him, and wished he could do something to help.  But he also found a part of himself feeling angry at Cas for what he had done to himself.  He didn’t want to feel angry, but the pressure remained in his chest, a balloon, slowly swelling, bound to burst at any moment.    

“I…I’m alive,” Cas said.  His voice was scratchy and his throat felt sore.  With great effort, he turned and took a long look at the bandages on his hand.  He could feel a very faint, dull throbbing in his ears, but no pain from the slashes on his wrist.

“You look like a ghost,” Balthazar said quietly.  His voice shook, betraying emotion and he looked down at his hands folded in his lap.

“I fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Something like that,” Balthazar replied.

Silence fell between them, moody and sullen.

“I haven’t called anyone yet,” Balthazar said.

Cas looked up.  He hadn’t thought of them, his family.  When he had pressed the cool blade up against his flesh all he could think about was sleep.  He had been so tired, oh so tired.  Now, they came to him, his mother and her stern mouth, his father and his constant scowl.  He wondered what his older brother would say about this whole thing.  Or his sister, Anna.  She would understand.  She would probably talk to him about it, listen to him and what he had to say instead of pushing him to the side like the rest of them.  He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

An unwelcome question echoed in his head, and no matter what he did, the unpleasant thought would not leave him alone.   _What would Dean say?_

What would Dean say.

* * *

_Present Day_

“Everyone has scars, Cas.  You don’t have to be ashamed of them with me,” Dean said.

Cas felt his chest tighten.  It had been a long time since he had talked about it, even though he thought about it almost every other day.  It was one of those constant, nagging memories that never seemed to go away.  He pulled in a shaky breath.

“You know that Leonard Cohen song?” Dean asked.  He reached forward and curled his fingers around Cas’ wrists once more.  He brushed a thumb across one of the smaller scars and he smiled.

Cas tilted his head to the side and observed Dean’s face.  “Which one?”

Dean sniffled.  “ _Anthem_ …there’s a crack in everything…that’s how the light gets in…” he said softly.  He looked up, his green eyes meeting Cas’ blue ones and he smiled.  It made no sense keeping secrets from Cas, Dean realized.  If they ended up sleeping together, or even falling asleep in the same bed, there was a chance that Cas would find out the hard way.  “I have nightmares sometimes.”

Cas nodded solemnly.  “I would be surprised if you didn’t.”  He remained silent for a moment.  “Are they about your parents?” he asked.

Dean nodded.  “Yeah.  About the fire.  I wish there was something I could have done.  I wish I could have saved them.”

“You were a child, Dean.  There was no way you could have known what was going to happen,” Cas said softly.

Dean swallowed against a thick knot forming in his throat.  Cas was right.  Everyone he had shared this information with over the years often told him the same thing.  What was a ten-year-old supposed to do about faulty wiring in a house? Realistically, he knew he couldn’t have done anything, but still, it nagged him, at the back of his mind, that he could have caught something, that he should have.  Maybe if he had told his father about the flickering light in the basement, he would have checked it out.  Maybe they could have gotten out of the house faster. Maybe he wouldn’t have been walking home from school, only to find his home bathed in the garish orange glow of flames, bleeding thick, black smoke.

“The light in the basement flickered,” Dean said quietly.  He looked down, tears burning in his eyes.  He had never told anyone about the light, not even Sam.

“What?” Cas asked.

“The light, Cas.  The light in the basement.  That morning I went down into the basement to get my other pair of sneakers…and…when I turned the light on it flickered for a while and I didn’t think anything of it…” his voice trailed off.  He could feel it, waves of guilt rolling off his body, black and twisted.  His voice was thick and strained.

“Dean…lights flicker all the time.  You were ten.  You were a child. Look at me,” Cas said sternly.  He pulled his arms away gently and scooted closer to Dean.  This time, he was the one to cup the other man’s face gently in his hands.  This was surreal, Cas thought, as he lifted Dean’s chin.  He looked into the eyes of the man who he had thought was dead for over twenty years and he felt his heart crack into a million pieces as it so often did, except this time, as he looked into Dean’s eyes, something strange happened: the cracks in his chest, the holes, slowly began to mend.  “Dean…you cannot blame yourself for your parents’ deaths.”  There were tears in his own eyes now.

“But I can, and I have been, and I can’t stop.  It doesn’t matter how many lives I save…it’s never enough…they’re always there at the back of my mind…” his voice trailed off.

Cas clenched his jaw.  “You saved my life, Dean.  You did.  You don’t know it, but you did.”

“What are you talking about?  You didn’t even…you thought I was dead,” Dean said bitterly.

Cas nodded.  “Yes, yes I did.  For many years, but…I brought you back to life.  Didn’t you notice?  Reikv, Dean.  He was you. He _is_ you.  He always has been.  I…you brought me back to life, Dean.  Doesn’t that count for something?”

Dean’s bottom lip quivered but he didn’t say anything.  In a strange, roundabout way, he had been right about Reikv. He almost laughed at how absurd it all suddenly seemed.

“Dean, will you sleep with me tonight?” Cas asked suddenly.

Dean made a face.  “Jeez, Cas, tell me how you _really_ feel,” he said, his face turning red.

Cas rolled his eyes.  “No I meant, sleep with me, here in this room, on this bed.  Just sleep.”

Dean regarded him for a moment and then he nodded.  He was tired, anyway, and after all of the day’s excitement, he couldn’t wait to close his eyes and drift off.  He watched as Cas slid off the bed and walked over to the door where he flipped the light switch.  The only light coming into the room was weak moonlight, filtering in through the window.

Cas crept back into the bed and pulled a thin sheet over their bodies and they shifted around for a few moments, getting comfortable.

Cas smiled when he realized that Dean was curling into him.  He pressed a soft kiss against Dean’s forehead and closed his own eyes.  He fell asleep with one of Dean’s arms slung possessively around his waist.  

For the first time in what felt like forever, Dean slept soundly through the night.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean woke up the next morning in an empty bed.

He felt surprisingly well rested and for a split second, he didn’t realize that he was in the guest bedroom.   _Must have fallen asleep in here, dreamt about Cas_ , he thought. He sat up and yawned and then froze when he saw Cas’ things on the corner desk.  Suddenly, it all came back to him.  Him and Cas on the beach, the kisses, Cas telling him about his scars, Dean telling him about his dreams, the two of them falling asleep in each other’s arms.  Dean sat up, his heart hammering wildly in his chest.  His mouth was dry and he blinked, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

Where had Cas gone?

Wearily, he got out of bed and shuffled downstairs to look for him.

He found him on the porch, sitting on a wicker chair, a large notebook in his lap.  On the table in front of him, was a mug of coffee, soft curls of smoke rising into the air. Dean rubbed his hands against his arms for warmth and yawned.  “Cas?”

Cas turned and smiled at him.  “Good morning, Dean,” he murmured.  “Aren’t you cold?” he asked.

Dean shivered and shrugged.  “Yeah, but, what are you doing?” he asked as he stepped out onto the porch.  He could feel stray grains of sand bristle below the soles of his feet.  He eased himself into the other chair and closed his eyes.

“Writing,” Cas said simply.  He turned back to his notebook and sighed.  “Well, trying to.”

“So since you’re staying here, does that mean I get to read the last book before everyone else does?” Dean asked with a grin.

Cas rolled his eyes and huffed at him.  “I have three months to add the finishing touches.  And to write the epilogue,” he said.

Dean nodded.  Three months.  That was a good chunk of time.  Enough time for them to get to know each other again, to get comfortable.  But then, what would happen when the time was up? When Cas finished his book?  When he had to leave and go back home to his life, to his job? Would Dean just be a pleasant memory once more? A summer fling? Something else for him to write about?  “You’re welcome to stay, you know,” Dean said softly.

Cas frowned.  “You mean…for the three months?”

Dean shrugged.  “For as long as you like, but, yeah I mean…if you’re looking for a place to…finish your book, then…my guest room is available. Free of charge.”

Cas studied him.  “I can’t just stay for free, Dean.  I have to…contribute somehow.”

Dean rubbed his chin and then his face lit up.  “I have an idea.  The book.  Each month you stay, you let me read a chunk of it,” he said.

Cas’ eyes widened and then he looked down at his notebook.  It was a tempting idea, and Dean would read the book eventually.  Plus, he could afford to use another pair of eyes on the text, even though it was nearly completed.  He found himself nodding as he closed his notebook. “Alright, it’s a deal.”

Dean grinned.  “So, what are we doing today?” he asked with a yawn.

Cas shrugged.  “Well, this is your town.  You tell me,” he teased.

Dean rubbed his chin.  “Well…on Sundays when I’m home I usually go to the Farmer’s Market and get groceries.  We could do that if you want,” he suggested.

Cas nodded eagerly.  “Alright, Dean. I’ll be inside in a moment,” he said.

Dean got up from his seat and nodded.  He paused in front of Cas and impulsively reached out to run a hand through Cas’ hair.  It was soft and stuck out in twenty different directions. Dean grinned.  He didn’t know what this was, this thing between him and Cas, but he knew for sure that he didn’t want to let it slip out of his fingers like the last time.  He scratched lightly at Cas’ scalp before letting go and going inside.

Cas opened his notebook and picked up his pen and found that he was too distracted by the phantom fingers in his hair.  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

In the distance, he could hear the ocean waves rolling against the shore.

* * *

As they walked side by side at the Farmer’s Market, Dean explained his work schedule to Cas, about how he worked a 24 hour shift, and then was off for 48 hours.

Cas had perked up at this and told Dean that on his days off, he would cook for him.  "In fact, I'd like to cook dinner tonight, if that's alright with you," he said. 

Dean shrugged and smiled.  "I'm not one to turn down free food."

Cas laughed softly and shook his head. He squinted at a vegetable stall a couple feet away and pointed at it.  "Their produce looks of good quality."

"Alright, well, I'll be back.  I'm just gonna get some coffee over there," Dean said, gesturing to a little stall a few steps back.  

Cas nodded and headed off in the direction of the vegetable stall, while Dean walked the other way to get coffee.  

Dean walked over to the small stall and stood on line, yawning and scrubbing a hand across his face.  

“Thanks for ignoring all of my calls yesterday,” someone said from next to him.

Dean cringed.  It was Charlie.  “Shit man, I am _so_  sorry,” he said.

She cocked an eyebrow and rolled her eyes.  “You’re sorry? Yeah, okay,” she muttered angrily.  “You disappear with James Milton in your front seat and I don’t even get a _text message_ ,” she said squinting at him.

Dean took his coffee from the man behind the stall and took a tentative sip.  “Look, I’m sorry, okay? It’s complicated.”

Charlie huffed at him. “So I’ve known you for almost five years and that’s all I get? An ‘it’s complicated’?  This isn’t some regular old schmuck, Dean.  This is James Milton. This is—”  Charlie stopped when she realized that James Milton was walking up to Dean.

“Dean, I got mushrooms and fresh chives, I was thinking I could make some chicken mars—” he stopped short when he saw Charlie. He smiled.  “Oh, hello.  I remember you,” he said.

Charlie grinned and nodded.  “Mr. Milton, it’s so great to see you again. I hope you’re feeling better from yesterday,” she gushed.

Cas waved her away.  “I’m doing much better, thank you.”

Charlie beamed at him.  “Well, I should get going…Gilda is coming over for lunch,” she said.

Dean’s eyes widened.  “Oh really?  How about I help you take your stuff to your car?” he asked pointedly.

Charlie flushed and nodded.

“Be back, Cas,” he said absently.  He froze when he realized what he had done.  “Ah, shit.  Sorry,” he mumbled.

Cas rolled his eyes.  “It’s fine, Dean.  I’ll wait for you here,” he said.

Dean nodded and took Charlie’s bags.  Together, they headed in the direction of the parking lot.

“So.  Gilda.  Lunch,” he said dryly.

Charlie snorted.  “So, Cas, Farmer’s Market,” she shot back.

“Ouch.”

“You deserve it,” Charlie said, turning her nose up at him.

They lapsed into a silence until they got to Charlie’s car, a bright red VW Beetle.  Dean watched as she unlocked the trunk and he handed her the bags.  “We knew each other as kids,” Dean said softly.

Charlie closed the trunk and took a sip of her coffee.  She didn’t press him, knowing that he would tell her more when he was good and ready. There was a lot of history there, a lot of pain, she realized.  She knew that look.  It was the same one he got on his face whenever he talked about his parents.  “Hey,” she said softly.  “I’m sorry I’m being such a jerk.”

Dean sighed.  “You’re not.  I am.  I’m sorry, Charlie.” He looked down and chewed on his bottom lip.  “Cas and I grew up together.  We were best friends for ten years and then…I moved.  We lost touch. After my parents died, he thought I had died too…” his voice trailed off.

“He thought you were dead all this time?” she asked incredulously.

Dean nodded and took a sip of his coffee.  “Yeah.  Pretty fucking weird, right?”

“Is that why he fainted when he saw you?”

Dean nodded again.  “Yeah.”

“Oh shit, dude,” Charlie said.  She looked up at Dean and smiled softly.  “You must be glad to have him back,” she said.

Dean flushed.  “Yeah, I am, actually.  It was a little weird at first and I mean I’m still wrapping my mind around the whole thing but…it’s really nice just…having him around,” he said.  He looked away.  “It feels…”

“Like home?” Charlie said quietly, with a knowing smile.   

Dean swallowed thickly against a knot forming in his throat.  The words Charlie had just said resonated with him so powerfully, he had to stop and remind himself to breathe. “Yeah,” he replied with a small grin.  “Like home.”


	7. Chapter 7

After a week, Dean and Cas had settled into an easy rhythm.

It felt oddly natural to Cas, writing during the morning and cooking for Dean in the afternoon.  On the days when Dean worked, Cas would spend his time writing and editing.  When he tired himself out, he would take a walk down to the beach and spread a blanket to relax, listening to the waves as they rolled on the shore.  On the days he spent alone, he found himself reflecting on his current situation and on his budding relationship with Dean.

Dean was content with his life, for the most part, that much he could tell.  But Cas could sense the other man's loneliness.  It crept out of him, timidly, like a child wearing an oversized sweatshirt, sleeves hanging off the hands.  He noticed it when Dean sat down next to him on the couch, the way he would almost unconsciously nudge himself closer to him, until their thighs touched.  Cas never said anything about it, and was secretly pleased that Dean was leaning into him.  They watched movies and TV shows, or rather, Dean forced Cas to watch a plethora of things he had somehow missed over the years.  There was Game of Thrones, which Cas had read, of course, but had never seen.  Then all of the superhero movies - the Batman ones, dark and somber, the Marvel ones, loud and bright.  He liked the way Dean relaxed when he was next to him, the way his shoulders drooped and the way little crinkles formed at the corners of his eyes when he laughed. 

They hadn’t kissed again since the night in Cas’ room.  Sometimes, he caught Dean staring at his mouth, and he would look away quickly, a blush stealing into his cheeks.  Cas wanted to kiss Dean again, he wanted to feel Dean’s hands on his skin but he decided to wait.  There was no sense in rushing and making things awkward between them.  If anything happened, he wanted it to occur naturally.    

During the second week, he had officially met Charlie and Gilda, Dean’s best friend, and her girlfriend.  They had come over for dinner, which Dean and Cas had prepared together. Getting to cook with Dean was something he filed away at the back of his mind as one of the happiest memories of his entire life.  There had been wine, lots of it, and soft jazz, at Cas’ insistence of course.  There had been a moment at the kitchen sink where the two of them had bumped into each other and they had stopped.  Cas could hear the blood rushing in his ears and in his chest, his heart thumping so hard, it hurt to breathe.  Dean had been staring down at him with an unreadable expression, a mixture of sadness and longing and then he had smiled at him, a soft, delicate thing, before apologizing and moving along.

Later that night, Cas had kicked himself for not kissing Dean in the kitchen.  But as he drifted off to sleep, he smiled, knowing that there was still time.  If there was one thing he had learned from this entire thing, it was the fact that there was always time.     

Balthazar had flown back home a couple days after Cas had moved in to Dean’s place.  They e-mailed each other constantly, Cas updating him on his writing, and Balthazar doing his best not to frown at him electronically.  He failed at the latter miserably.

At the beginning of the fourth week, Cas found himself working on one of his other projects, when suddenly, a blue Skype bubble popped up in the corner of his screen.  He smiled - it was Balthazar.

“Cassie, darling,” Balthazar said with a wide smile.

Cas grinned back at him.  “Balthazar, it’s good to see your face,” he replied warmly.

Balthazar rolled his eyes and laughed.  “Yeah I’m sure.  Listen, I’m calling to find out a couple things.  One, when the hell are you planning on coming home? Two, where the hell is the epilogue?  And three, have you slept with Dean Winchester yet?”

It was Cas’ turn to roll his eyes.  “Well, I won’t be home for another two months, but you already know that…my epilogue is almost done…” his voice trailed off.

Balthazar’s eyebrows rose.  “You old dog, you,” he said with a laugh.

Cas shook his head.  “No, Balthazar.  We haven’t…” he flushed, his cheeks turning red.

“Why, Cas. If I couldn’t tell, I would say you were blushing.  You _are_ blushing! What’s going on over there?  I thought you two kissed.  I thought there was chemistry?”

“Well, yes, Balthazar, there’s chemistry, however I’ve only been here for several weeks.  And I’ve decided that…getting to know Dean is more important than…well, you know.”

Balthazar made a face.  “Ever the romantic.”

Cas fell silent and looked down at his keyboard.  “It just doesn’t feel right to just…sleep with him, Balthazar.  I could have but…”

“I know, Cas, I know I’m just messing with you,” Balthazar said with a soft smile.  “I’m just…worried about you.”

“Why?”

Balthazar sighed deeply and shook his head.  “I don’t know.  You know sometimes you just get a feeling?”

Cas nodded.  “I’m fine though.  Seriously.  Thank you, Balthazar,” he said with a grateful smile.

“You’re my best friend, Cas.  If you need anything, call, yeah?” he said softly.

Cas swallowed thickly and nodded.  “I will, I promise.”

“Well then, I’ve got to go,” Balthazar said quickly.

Cas squinted at him.  “Atropos?” he asked dryly.

Balthazar flushed at the name of his on and off girlfriend.  He nodded.  “Yes.  She should be here any minute now.  Take care, Cassie, love you,” he said.

“Love you too,” Cas said with a smile before logging off.  He remained seated, staring at his laptop screen for a few moments, mulling over what Balthazar had said… _you know sometimes, you just get a feeling?_  He shuddered and quickly shut the lid down on his laptop.  His eyes hurt and he was tired of staring at the computer screen.  He needed a break, or perhaps, some sleep.  It was already late, and Dean wouldn’t be home until tomorrow morning.  He yawned and stretched.  He decided that he would take a quick shower and then he would rest.  With a tired sigh, he got up from his seat and trudged out of his room and into the bathroom.  As he showered, he did his best to put his worry out of his mind, though Balthazar’s words continued to bounce around inside his skull, a sinister echo.

He didn’t stop thinking about it until he fell asleep, and even then, his dreams were uneasy.

* * *

Dean couldn’t stop coughing.

Thick rolls of black smoke wafted overhead yet still, he pushed through.  To his right, he could sense someone there in the fray.  It was Victor.

They were on the second floor of a house that was burning a little too quickly for his liking.  He pushed down the fear and bile that had steadily been building up in his throat and continued to move forward.  There was a little boy in here somewhere, according to the old woman outside, her grandson.  He was in his room, sleeping, though Dean found it hard to believe that he could sleep through something like this.  The flames crackled and he could hear something pop somewhere.

“Winchester, bedroom is this way, come on!” Victor yelled.  He waved and pointed at the door, mostly obscured by smoke and closed, but covered in little stickers.

Dean followed him, doing his best to walk as lightly as possible on the wooden floor.  The house was old, and had been falling apart before it had become a giant torch and he knew he had to watch his step for rotting wood.  There were flames overhead as well, racing across the ceiling's wooden beams.  He found himself thinking of Cas, wishing he had kissed him again when he had the chance.  An unbidden thought rose in his head, one that always did whenever he found himself deep within a burning home much like this one.  Had his parents screamed? Had they cried for help as their home burned around them?  Did they think of him and Sam?  He shook his head and clenched his jaw. Now wasn’t the time to think about those things.  Now he needed to focus on getting to the bedroom and saving that boy.

“Victor! Winchester! This place is fucking falling apart man, we gotta go!” someone shouted from behind.

Dean wheeled around and came face to face with Gordon.  Even under his helmet, Dean could see that Gordon was sweating and looked genuinely worried.

“There’s a kid in there, man! We gotta get in there!” Dean yelled back.

Gordon nodded and began to push forward along with Dean following in Victor’s footsteps.

Victor opened the bedroom door and ran inside, Gordon and Dean close behind him.  They began to search around, pulling open the closet door and flashing their flashlights, looking for the boy.  Dean and Victor exchanged a worried glance.  The kid wasn’t in the room where his grandmother said he would be.

“He ain’t in here, bathroom maybe?” Gordon asked.

Victor nodded.

Dean motioned his head toward the kitchen.  “I’ll check over there,” he yelled.

The smoke was thicker now, and Dean could feel the heat pressing against him.  He stepped around several pieces of wood that had fallen from the ceiling and he cursed. The sheetrock above them had burned away, leaving the wooden beams of the roof exposed.  All of it was on fire, and he could see bits and pieces of sky above him.  For the first time in a long time, he found himself feeling scared.  He didn’t want to die.  He didn’t want to end up in the hospital with vegetables for brains.  He realized that for all the years that he had been doing this, he had done it with the knowledge knowing that if he died while trying to save a life, at least he was on his own, and there was no one at home to mourn him.

But now, there was someone home.  There was someone who was probably sound asleep right now, with sweet, pink lips, always chapped, with dark, feathery hair that he wished he could feel beneath his fingers one more time.  Now, there was Cas.

With his eyes stinging and beginning to water, he continued to move forward in the direction of the kitchen.  The smoke in there was thick and he coughed, calling out for the boy as he stepped inside.  “Jesse!” he yelled.  There was no response.  He bent over and checked under the table and sure enough, he saw a scrawny figure hiding beneath it.  “Jesse?  Come on, buddy, let’s get you out of here!” He pulled back the chairs and extended his arms so Jesse could crawl into them.  The boy was sobbing and coughing as he buried his face against Dean’s chest.  “Vic! Gordon! I’ve got him!” he yelled as he ran out of the kitchen.

The next thirty seconds happened in slow motion.  He clutched onto Jesse’s frail body tightly and watched as Victor and Gordon came stumbling out of the other rooms.  Gordon was shouting something at him and pointing above his head.  Without thinking, Dean jumped forward just as he heard a terrible snapping sound over his head.  In his arms, the boy screamed and Dean felt something heavy hit the back of his helmet.  He stumbled and fell onto the ground, the boy falling with him.  The last thing he remembered was the sound of Victor’s voice screaming his name and then everything went dark.

* * *

Cas awoke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest.

His entire body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and he felt cold all over.  He glanced over at the clock on the bedside table and squinted at it, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.  It was four in the morning.  He had only been asleep for about five hours but he felt strangely awake.  There was a funny taste in his mouth and he sighed wearily as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.  As he stood up, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise and he frowned.  He couldn’t explain why he felt this way, he just did, and it was uncomfortable.  His mind trailed over to Dean, wondering if he was alright.  Had something happened to him?  He shook his head and took a deep breath.  No, Dean was fine.  He quickly snatched up his cell phone from the side table and dialed Dean’s number, anxiously biting down on his bottom lip as he exited the room.

The phone rang and rang but Dean did not answer.  Instead, it connected to his voicemail.   Cas coughed weakly.  That didn’t mean anything, he was probably out on a call.  Maybe a cat was stuck up in a tree, he thought with a little smile.  He walked down to the kitchen and flipped the light on, putting the phone on speaker and hitting the call button again.  Dean’s voicemail picked up again, his rich voice filling the kitchen.  Cas cleared his throat and picked up the phone.

“Hey Dean, it’s me…I just…wanted to say hi and…come home in one piece, okay?” he said with a soft smile.  He hung up the phone but his stomach was in knots.  Something was wrong; he could feel it under his skin.  Instead of panicking, he decided to make a mug of tea and give Dean some time to call him back.

He lost himself for a few minutes in the comforting ritual of brewing his tea.  He watched as the water darkened as he eased the teabag into the mug.  The brown tendrils curled downward and he shivered at how much it looked like blood.

* * *

“Dean? Honey it’s time to wake up.”

Dean blinked and opened his eyes.  He was in bed, in his pajamas, staring up at his mother.  He groaned softly.  “Mom…wait… _Mom_?  You’re…” his voice trailed off and he swallowed thickly.  His mother was dead, but there she was, hovering over him, her brows furrowed in concern.

“Are you feeling okay?” she asked.

He blinked.  No, he was most definitely not okay.  He looked down at his arms.  They were small and scrawny and he gasped.  The last thing he could remember was a fire.  There was lots of smoke, thick globs of it all around, and a young boy in his arms.  He looked up at his mother again and he felt tears prickle at his eyes.  This wasn’t real, he realized.  His heart thudded painfully in his chest and he closed his eyes, squeezing down on them hard.  Maybe if he wished hard enough, he wouldn’t be here anymore.  Maybe if he tried, he would wake up.  He opened his eyes cautiously and groaned when he realized that she was still there, staring at him, confused and worried.

“Dean are you sure you’re okay?  You look pale.  Like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said with an enigmatic smile.

Dean opened his mouth to say something but his voice was caught in his throat.  He closed his eyes again but this time, when he opened them, his mother was no longer beautiful.  Her skin was badly burned and her hair was singed, still smoking.  There were cracks in her flesh, and her dress was torn and burnt all over.  Next to her stood his father, burned and scarred the same way.  He sat up and immediately moved back.

“Dean, listen to your mother.  You’ll be late for school,” his father said.  His voice sounded different, distorted and strange.

“You’re going to be late for school,” Mary echoed.  She lifted a burnt hand and reached out for him, tilting her head to the side.  “Don’t you want to get out of bed, honey?” she asked.  She grinned, but instead of it being comforting, it was macabre, a skeletal grin of blood and bone.

Dean’s heart was in his throat.

“Dean,” his father said.

“Dean,” his mother whispered.

They began to move closer to him reaching out for him in what they must have thought was comforting.

It chilled him to the bone.  “Please, no…” he whispered.

His mother smiled at him and shook her head.  “Come on, Dean, let’s go.”

“Dean…” his father said again in that strange, distorted voice.

Dean continued to move until his back was against the wall.  He felt bile rise in his throat and his fear was so real even though he knew this was a dream.

Mary continued to surge forward, her outstretched hand getting closer and closer to him.  She reached out and curled her fingers on his shoulder and he swallowed a scream.  She shook him, her face suddenly going back to normal, soft and beautiful the way it had always been.  “Dean, you’ve got to wake up.  You must.  If you don’t wake up, you’ll stay here forever.  Wake up, Dean.  Wake up, honey.”

Dean felt tears well in his eyes.  “I’m sorry, Mom.  I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” he mumbled.

Mary shook her head and squeezed down on his shoulder reassuringly.  “Dean.  You couldn’t have done anything to save us.  We love you.  But you must go.  Wake up, Dean,” she said again.

Fat teardrops rolled down his cheeks and his body shook with the force of his sobs.  “Do you forgive me?” he asked.

Mary smiled and nodded.  “Of course we do.  We love you, Dean,” she whispered.  “Now close your eyes, and go home.”

Dean closed his eyes and scrunched them up tight.  He felt his heart pounding a dark tattoo against his chest and he licked his lips, tasting the salt on them from his tears.  When he opened his eyes he was in a hospital bed.  In a chair next to him, Benny dozed lightly, his chin on his chest.

Dean buried his face in his hands and began to cry.    

* * *

Two mugs of tea later, Castiel found himself pulling up Union’s Fire Department webpage on Google.  He had called Dean several more times to no avail and now he was worried.  He didn’t know what it was, but something gnawed at him.  He found the phone number and hovered his finger over the call button for a few beats wondering if he was being stupid.  No, he wasn’t being stupid, he thought.  He was simply concerned.  He quickly pressed the button before he could think about it anymore and listened to the phone as it rang.

“Union FD, Kevin speaking how can I help you?”

Cas cleared his throat.  “Hi Kevin, my name is Castiel.  I’m…a friend of Dean Winchester.” He heard a soft intake of breath on the other line and he sank down onto the couch, his knees, weak.

“Oh, Dean, yeah.  He’s um…” his voice trailed off.

Cas sagged against the couch. “Kevin, is he alright?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, he’s at the hospital but he’s okay.  I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are…”

“What hospital? Where is it?” Cas asked.

“Union General.”

At that same moment, the house phone rang shrilly, disturbing the silence of the house.

“Thank you, Kevin,” Cas said quickly as he hung up his phone.  He dashed over to the house phone and answered it.  “Hello?”

“Oh, Castiel, hey, it’s Charlie.”

“Charlie, is Dean alright?” he asked urgently.

“Yes, yes, he’s fine.  I’m his emergency contact so I got here a little while ago and I realized that you were home and—”

“I’m heading over there now,” he said.

“Yeah, okay.  You can bring him some clothes, if you want.  He’ll be here until the morning and then he can go home.  It’s just a mild concussion,” she explained.

“Thank you,” he said before hanging up.  His stomach was boiling.  He knew something was wrong, and yet, even hearing the news that Dean was fine did nothing to quell his fears.  He dropped the house phone on the couch and raced upstairs to get Dean’s clothes.

* * *

At the hospital, Cas found Charlie sitting in the waiting room, one leg hooked over the other, staring down at the floor.  She looked tired and worn.

“Charlie,” he murmured.

She looked up at him and smiled wanly.  “Hey.  You made it,” she said, her voice thick with sleep.

He nodded and sat down next to her.  “Yes.  How is he?” he asked again.

She yawned and covered her mouth with her hand.  “Sorry about that.  He’s fine, Cas.  Just a little shook up.  The doctor said he can go home in a couple hours.  They just want to keep him in for observation a little while longer.”  She yawned again and rubbed her temples.  “I already called Sam and told him.”

“Will they let me see him?” Cas asked, his voice suddenly small.

Charlie looked over at him and nodded.  “Yeah, I don’t see why not.  He’s in room 401.  Let’s get you a pass from Tessa,” she said getting up.

Together they walked over to the counter.  After getting a visitor’s pass, he carefully peeled the sticker off and pasted it onto his shirt.

Charlie looked up at him and smiled.  “Victor said he’ll come back with the Impala in the morning, and I think Benny is still up there with him,” she said.  “The rest of the guys already left so, you don’t have to worry about meeting all of them at once,” she said gently.

Cas nodded and glanced over toward the bank of elevators.

Charlie reached up and squeezed his arm.  “He asked for you, you know,” she said with a smile.

Cas’ brows rose and then he blushed.  “Oh, did he?”

Charlie rolled her eyes.  “He is so over the moon for you,” she said.

Cas blinked and looked away.

“Oh, hey, let me give you my number just in case you need anything,” she said.

Cas unlocked his phone and handed it to her.

She quickly programmed her phone number into it and handed it back to him.  “Alright.  I’m gonna head out.  Gilda is waiting for me in the parking lot,” she said with a sleepy smile.

Cas nodded and leaned in for a quick hug.

Charlie was surprised, but she hugged him back.  “See you later, Cas,” she mumbled.

He watched as she walked away and then he turned to the bank of elevators once more.  With his heart hammering wildly in his chest, he began to walk over toward the shiny doors, thanking God with each step that Dean was alright.

* * *

“You really gave us a scare, brother,” Benny drawled.

Dean opened one eye and looked over at his big bear of a friend.  There was still some soot on Benny’s cheek and a cut above his eyebrow that had been stitched up.  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” Dean groused.  He shifted on the bed, his head swimming and he closed his eyes once more.  He hadn’t told Benny about the dream, or whatever the hell it was.  He was still frightened by it, and by what it meant.

“You know…Gordon pulled you outta there,” Benny said softly.

Dean opened his eyes and looked over at Benny.  “Seriously?”

Benny nodded solemnly.  “Yeah. Vic got the kid, and Gordon had you.  Ain’t that something,” he said with a little smile.

Dean snorted.  “I guess there’s hope for us after all,” he joked.

“How you feeling?”

Dean shrugged.  “Like my head is…wrapped up in a bunch of plastic.  I dunno.  Just tired.  I want my bed,” he mumbled.

Benny grinned.  “I’m sure that ain’t the only thing you want.”

Dean made a face.  “Oh, wow.  You’re a regular comedian, when did you get so funny?”

“Been hangin’ around you too long, I think,” Benny said with a laugh.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence and Dean glanced over at his friend.  “I got lucky today, didn’t I?” he asked.

“You always get lucky, Winchester.  Shit always misses you.”

Dean was mulling on this when a soft knock came at the door.  “Come in,” he called.

The door pushed open and there,  standing in the doorway, was Cas.  He looked tired, and his hair stuck out in twenty different directions.  He had shaved his beard the other day but it had already started growing back, giving him a disheveled, worn look.

“Dean,” he murmured.

The surge of joy that ran through Dean’s veins was incomparable.  He smiled so hard, he thought he would split his lip, and he blushed.  He glanced over at Benny and cleared his throat. “Uh, Benny, this is Castiel, my friend.  Cas, this is Benny.”

Benny got up and lumbered over to Cas.  “Nice to meet you, Castiel,” he drawled.

Cas squinted at him and gave him a curt nod.  “Nice to meet you,” he said.

The two of them observed each other for a few moments, the tension in the room so thick, Dean could cut it with a knife.  

Eventually, Benny turned to Dean, his mouth pressed into a thin line.  “You’ll be alright?” he asked.

Dean nodded.

“Call me if you need anything.  I think Vic is bringing the Impala over.  I’ll tell him to leave the keys with Tessa.  Will, uh…Cas drive you home?” he asked.

“Yes, I will,” Cas said, jutting his chin out defiantly.

Benny nodded and then smiled at Dean.  “Alright.  I’ll see you later, brother.  Nice to make your acquaintance, Castiel.”  

Cas waited until Benny left to rush over to Dean’s side.  “Holy shit, Dean.  Are you alright?” he asked as he sat down.  He pulled his chair closer to the edge of the bed and reached out to brush his fingers through Dean’s hair.

Dean smiled tiredly and nodded.  “Yeah, I’m fine.  Just…a little tired from the meds.  It’s just a mild concussion. I should be good in a couple days.  And I think I bruised a rib or something when I fell.”

Cas continued to play with Dean’s hair, finally relaxed for the first time in hours.  He watched as a small smile bloomed on Dean’s lips.  His eyes were closed and Cas took this opportunity to inspect Dean’s face.  There was a small bruise on his forehead, and another one on his cheek, but all in all, he didn’t look too bad.  “I woke up in the middle of the night feeling sick,” Cas said.  “I knew something was wrong.”

“ESPN?” Dean teased, opening his eyes.

Cas frowned, his brows knitting together.  "What?"

"ESPN, Cas, it was a joke...never mind," Dean said, his smile fading.  

“Oh...well...I kept thinking…I was so mad at myself,” Cas said.

“Why?”

Cas licked his lips.  “I was mad that I didn’t kiss you that night when we made dinner for Charlie and Gilda.  I was mad that I didn’t kiss you the day after that.  I was mad that I didn’t kiss you yesterday before you left,” he said quietly.

Dean huffed at him and smiled.  “Well will you shut up and kiss me now?” he asked.

Cas laughed but obliged, leaning over to press a soft kiss against Dean’s lips.  “Don’t you ever do that to me again, assbutt,” Cas mumbled against his mouth.

Dean moaned softly and nodded in response.  It was all he could really do.


	8. Chapter 8

Crowley forced Dean to take the rest of the week off.

Dean had grumbled about it, but in the end, he had accepted it.  He knew why Crowley was pushing the time off.  Crowley knew that today was the anniversary of the death of Dean’s parents.  Usually, Dean requested a few days off in advance but, he hadn’t gotten around to submitting the paperwork on time.  Still, he was thankful that Crowley had remembered, and that he had given him the time off anyway.

Cas drove him home, and Dean had fallen asleep, his head pressed up against the window.  When they got to the house, he immediately went into his bed and slid in beneath the covers.  He still hadn’t talked to Cas about the dream, nor had he told him what had happened at the house.  Cas hadn’t asked, and Dean was thankful.  All he wanted to do now was sleep.  The medicine they had given him made his limbs feel long and heavy and when his head hit the pillow, he immediately fell into a dreamless slumber.

He woke up several hours later, a little groggy, but well rested.  The room was dark, Cas had pulled the curtains and turned off the lights.  He yawned and shifted his weight, listening to the mattress squeak as he swung his legs off the side of the bed.  There was a glass of water on the bedside table and he smiled.  After gulping down the water thirstily, he forced himself to get out of the bed and leave the room.

He found Cas downstairs sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee.

When Cas saw him, he smiled.  “Hey sleepyhead,” he said.

Dean grinned and sat down across from him.  He scrubbed a hand across his face and yawned.  “Hey yourself,” he mumbled.

“How are you feeling?”

Dean shrugged.  “I’ve had better days.”  He wanted to tell Cas about his strange dream.  He wanted to tell him about the hole in his stomach, the ache in his chest.  He wanted to tell him how much he missed his mother and her warmth, his father and his gruff laugh.  He wanted to tell Cas so many things, but he had no idea where to begin.  His mind was swimming, a thousand different things rippling through his head.  His body was still sore, and he knew he needed more rest.  The fall had affected him more than he realized.

Cas observed him quietly for a few moments.  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

Dean yawned and nodded.  “Yeah.  I could eat an entire horse right about now,” he joked.

Cas smiled and got up from his seat.  “Well, last time I checked there wasn’t any horse in here, but, I could make us a couple sandwiches and we could walk down to the beach? Or drive.  If you’re up to it.  It might be good for you to get a little bit of fresh air,” he said.

Dean looked at Cas and his heart swelled with love.  Here he was, twenty years later, mourning the death of his parents, but celebrating the addition of Cas into his life.  He thought back to last year on this day, how sad he had been.  How his stomach had wrenched with guilt and anger.  He didn’t want to be that way anymore.  He didn’t want to hold on to all of that pain and hurt.  He looked up at Cas and smiled.  “Yeah, that sounds fine.  I’m gonna take a quick shower,” he said as he got up.

“You forgot something,” Cas said.

Dean squinted at him.  “What?”

Cas walked over to him and reached out to wrap his arms around Dean’s waist.  Slowly, Cas pulled him closer until they were mere inches apart and then, Cas leaned in and kissed him.  It was soft and sweet and Dean went pliant in Cas’ arms.    

Dean felt hot all over, and even though his head was beginning to throb ever so slightly, an indication that his meds were starting to wear off, he couldn’t stop.  He wanted Cas.  He moaned softly against Cas’ mouth and he felt Cas’ erection press up against him.  “Cas?” Dean groaned.  His tongue was heavy in his mouth and his heart was in his throat.

“Hmm?”

“Forget the beach,” Dean whispered.

Cas pulled back, his eyes wide.  His mouth was pink, lips slick with spit and a little swollen.  “Dean?”

Dean licked his lips and stared into Cas’ eyes.  His pupils were already blown, and a pretty flush had come upon his face.  “Take me upstairs,” Dean said, his voice thick with longing.

It took Cas a few beats for what Dean was asking him for to process in his brain and his brows rose.  He hooked a finger on the waistband of Dean’s soft boxer shorts and pulled it back.  He continued to maintain eye contact with Dean as he slid his hand inside of his boxers to wrap a hand around his cock.

Dean jumped and moaned, biting his bottom lip.

“This what you want, Dean?” Cas asked, his voice deep and gravelly.

Dean closed his eyes and nodded.  He hiccupped as Cas brushed a thumb across the slit of his cock.  He wanted Cas so bad, he let out another involuntary moan.

Cas pulled his hand away and Dean pouted.  “So,” he asked with a wide grin.  “My room or yours?”

* * *

They ended up in Cas' room.   

In the distance, Dean could hear the ocean, the waves turning and rolling.  His head still felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls, but he could barely think, barely  _breathe_ with the things that Cas was doing to him.  His legs were spread open wide, and Cas had his lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, suckling gently while rolling his balls in the palm of his hand.  

"Jesus Christ, Cas," Dean moaned.  

Cas responded with a throaty hum and pulled Dean further into his mouth.  His fingers moved from Dean's balls, down to his hole, and he gingerly pressed one against the tight opening, massaging it with his thumb.  

Dean responded just as Cas had expected, his legs had spread even wider, and his breathing had become more erratic.  

Cas continued to massage Dean's heat, and took his time with sucking his cock.  He wanted to make Dean feel good, wanted him to feel safe and taken care of.  

" _Fuck_ , Cas, I need..." Dean's voice trailed off as Cas took him in all the way to the back of his throat.  Dean lifted his head and looked down at Cas.  His lips were stretched out around Dean's cock. Mesmerized, Dean watched as his cock slid out of Cas' mouth.  He watched the way Cas rubbed all of the spit and precome over his lips and licked it, a wicked smile on his face.  

"What do you need, Dean?" he asked, his voice raspy.  

"Need you inside me," Dean said with a little moan.  

Cas smiled and clambered up over to him.  He hovered over him, the pendant swaying gently back and forth between them.  Cas looked into Dean's eyes and he leaned in for a soft kiss. When he pulled back, he looked into Dean's eyes once more.  "Are you sure?" Cas asked. 

Dean's cheeks turned a pleasant shade of red but he nodded.  "Yeah," he mumbled. 

Cas laughed and dipped down for another kiss.  He pressed soft kisses on Dean's cheeks, moving on to his chin, then up to his nose, and onto his eyelids.  "You're so beautiful, Dean," Cas murmured.  "I wish I could just kiss you forever." 

Dean flushed and moaned.  He could feel Cas' hand on his shoulder, burning a brand into his skin.  He nodded to the little bedside table.  "There's um, lube in the drawer," he mumbled.  

Cas flashed him a grin and made his way over to the table where he opened the drawer and rummaged around for the lube.  A few moments later, he was squeezing out a good amount of it onto his fingers and he scooted back down between Dean's legs where he set to work on slowly opening him up.  He took his time, inserting one finger at a time and taking pleasure in all of the sweet little sighs that escaped Dean's lips. When he slid a third finger inside to join the other two, he began to pump them in and out, searching for Dean's prostate and smiling when Dean's entire body jumped.  He grasped onto his own cock, stroking it a few times before ripping open a condom packet with his teeth.  He wanted to be inside of Dean so badly.  His hands shook as he rolled the condom onto his stiff cock and as soon as he was done, he pressed the head of it against Dean's opening.  Slowly, he pushed himself inside, moaning softly as Dean greedily pulled him in.  He didn't want to be rough with him, and so he took his time, sliding into him inch by inch.  

Dean had grabbed onto his cock and was slowly stroking himself, his eyes closed, a beautiful flush spreading across his cheeks.  His eyes popped open when Cas bottomed out, and he sucked in a breath, feeling his body adjust to the intrusion.  "Come on, Novak.  Fuck me," he growled. 

Cas grinned at him and began to roll his hips, slowly fucking into Dean.  "Oh, don't worry, I will."

Dean bit down on his bottom lip and laughed. 

* * *

Dean woke up to a pair of soft lips pressed against his shoulder.  He smiled and shifted, turning around so he could face Cas.  “Hey,” he whispered.

Cas blinked at him and he smiled back.  “Hey yourself,” he mumbled.  He closed his eyes and hummed happily as Dean snuggled closer to him.  “You’re very cuddly,” Cas said dryly.

“I’m wounded,” Dean said with a laugh.

“Oh is that what it is?  You’re not always an octopus?”

Dean snorted.  “I guess you’ll have to stay in my bed for the rest of the week to find out.”

“Sounds good to me,” Cas said with a yawn.

Dean opened his eyes and chewed on his bottom lip.  He wondered if perhaps he should tell Cas about his strange dream, about how real it had felt.    

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked.

Dean flushed.  “Am I that obvious?” he asked.

Cas leaned in for a kiss and nodded.  “Yes.”

Dean took a deep breath and sighed.  “While I was knocked out I had a weird dream.”

Cas frowned.  “Weird how?”    

Dean launched into the tale, beginning with what happened at the house.  He told Cas about the little boy and how he had found him hiding beneath the kitchen table.  He described the way the smoke had curled above them, and the sickening sound of the snapping wood as it fell from the ceiling.  Slowly, but surely, he made his way to the dream.  He told Cas about how real it had all felt, how for a moment, he had thought that the past twenty years had just been a dream and that his parents were alive.

Cas listened quietly, nodding and reaching out to curl his fingers around Dean’s arm, squeezing it reassuringly when he paused to catch himself.

He finished by telling Cas about the very end of the dream, about how he had asked his mother for forgiveness and how she had given it to him.  His voice caught in his throat and he remained silent, observing the pensive look on Cas’ face.

“How do you feel about it?” Cas asked eventually.

Dean shrugged.  “I don’t know how to feel.  I mean…what the hell was that? My subconscious? A ghost?” he joked.

Cas hummed.  “A combination of both, perhaps?  It’s been twenty years, right?”

Dean nodded.  “Yeah…today makes it…twenty years officially,” he said tiredly.

“Today?” Cas echoed.

Dean closed his eyes and nodded once more.

“What do you usually do?” Cas asked.

Dean shrugged again.  “Nothing, really.  I usually…take a couple days off, maybe go for a drive, go fishing.  I just try to get away,” he said softly.

Cas sat up slowly and scrubbed a hand across his face.  “Well, there’s someplace I’d like to take you,” he murmured.

Dean made a face.  “Excuse me?”

“Get up lazy bones.  I want to take you somewhere, but first, let’s get you something to eat.”

Dean buried his face in his hands and moaned.  “Don’t wanna go anywhere,” he groaned.

“Oh really?” Cas mumbled.  He pulled back the covers and splayed a hand out across Dean’s stomach.  “You have such a soft little belly,” Cas murmured.

Dean pulled his hands away and frowned.  “Leave my belly out of this.”

Cas chuckled softly and moved further down on the bed so he could position himself over Dean’s stomach.  He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss against the pliant flesh, catching some of it between his teeth and nibbling.

“Cas,” Dean groaned.

Cas huffed out a laugh and his breath was warm against Dean’s skin.  He moved lower, brushing his nose against Dean’s soft cock.

“Where are you taking me?” Dean whined.

Cas looked up at him and grinned.  “Well, first, I’m going to give you a blowjob.  Then I’ll tell you.  Deal?”

Dean blushed and nodded.  “Deal.”

* * *

Dean had no idea where Cas was taking him.  He settled into the passenger seat of the Impala and watched as Cas drove, his hands resting lightly on the steering wheel.

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” Dean said with a yawn.

Cas glanced over at him and smiled.  “We’re almost there,” he replied.

Dean sighed and turned his attention to the scenery rolling by.  They were in a different part of town, one filled with lots of old buildings, lots of stone and ornate, metal gates.  Directly behind these homes, was the ocean.  He rolled down the window and took a deep breath.  He could smell the salt on the air and he smiled.

Cas turned on a little street leading to the ocean and he continued to drive until they arrived at a large, old church.  He pulled into the parking lot and killed the engine.

In the distance, Dean could hear the waves rolling against the shore.  He had never seen this church before, even though it was relatively large.  It seemed to be hidden from the main road, and he couldn’t help but wonder how on earth Cas had found this place.

“When I first came here…I came to this church,” Cas said.  He unconsciously reached up for the pendant at his chest and touched it.  “I needed…” his voice trailed off.

Dean reached over and squeezed down on Cas’ thigh.

“I needed a place to center myself and this church was so beautiful.  I mean, gorgeous stained glass, and so many candles.  I thought it would be a good place for you to visit today.  Maybe light some candles for your parents,” he said softly.

Dean swallowed thickly and nodded.

“You ready?” Cas asked softly.

Dean looked at the large, looming structure outside.  He was as ready as he could ever be, he thought.

Cas looked over at him and smiled.

They both slipped out of the car and together they walked up the weathered stone steps towards the large, wooden doors.

* * *

Upon entering inside, Dean found himself holding his breath.  He had never seen a more beautiful church.  How had he missed this place?  The stained glass windows were beautiful, just like Cas said, and they were all glowing from the light of the setting sun outside.  There weren’t many lights on, and the entire place was illuminated by sunlight, and hundreds of candles, all of them flickering softly in large alcoves.

Dean felt a fresh wave of emotions hit him in his chest and his knees buckled.  He walked over to a pew and sat down, thankful for the solidity of the wood beneath him.

Cas immediately sat down next to him, their thighs touching.

It was comforting.

They sat in silence for a long time, Dean taking slow, steady breaths, turning his dream over and over in his mind, Cas, sitting next to him, not speaking but there.

“Do you think they would really forgive me, Cas?” Dean asked softly.

Cas looked over at Dean and reached out to splay a hand across his thigh. He smiled softly and nodded.  “Yes,” he said simply.

“How do you know?”

Cas took a deep breath and looked up at the large chandelier hanging in the middle of the church.  “Because from what I’ve seen in the past month…you’re a good man, Dean.  You run into burning buildings to save kids.  You put yourself on the back burner and other people always come first.  Dean I’m sure your parents forgive you.  That’s what parents do and yours loved you, immensely.  What you need to do now is forgive yourself.”

The words hit Dean squarely in his chest and he looked over at Cas.  What he had said was true, and it was something that he had honestly never thought of.  Of course his parents would forgive him, he had been a child, after all, and he had spent so much time thinking that they would have hated him for what he had done.  The reality of it all was that Dean was the one who hated himself for something that he had no control over.

Relief washed over him, and it was so sudden, he lowered his head and buried his face in his hands.  He felt tears coming on but he didn’t hold them back.  He allowed himself to cry.  He cried for his parents, and for how much they loved him, he cried for his brother Sam, who had been forced to grow up without them, he cried for Cas, who had spent the last twenty years thinking he was dead, and he cried for himself.  He cried for his ten year old self, the one whom he had been putting all the blame on all these years.  He felt Cas’ hand rubbing soothing circles on his back and he continued to sob.

Unconsciously, he leaned into Cas, burying his face in the crook of his neck and shoulder and he sniffled.

Cas wrapped him in his arms and rocked him slowly back and forth.  “It’s okay, Dean.  I’m here, I’m here,” he murmured.

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep steadying breath.  He gently untangled himself from Cas and peered at him in the strange light of the Church.  “I’ve missed you so much, Cas.  I don’t know what I’ll do…when you go back home,” he said softly.

Cas’ eyes widened for a moment and then he looked down.  He wasn’t ready to deal with those things.  Not yet.  Instead, he smiled softly at Dean and reached out to brush his face with his thumbs.  “Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it, okay?” he asked.

Dean snuffled and nodded.

“Come on, let’s go light some candles for your parents,” Cas said.

Dean smiled wanly and nodded again.

Cas began to stir, but Dean pulled him back in and kissed him before he could leave.  Cas smiled against Dean’s mouth and relaxed, not caring that they were kissing at the back of a Church.

When Dean broke the kiss off, they stared at each other for a few moments.  “I love you, Cas.  I always have,” he said softly.

Cas swallowed thickly and blinked away tears that burned at his eyes.  “I love you too, Dean,” he said with a smile.

Their words echoed softly in the stone Church, their declarations of love, surrounding them, wrapping them up and promising to never let go.

* * *

When they got back home, Sam called Dean on Skype.

Dean was glad to see his baby brother’s face, and his mouth split into a wide grin when the call connected.  “Sammy!”

His brother grinned back at him.  He’d grown into a handsome young man, with a straight nose and chiseled features.

Every time Dean saw him, he swore his brother’s hair was longer.  Dean frowned at him.  “When are you gonna cut that thing, man?  You’re going to be a lawyer for Christ’s sake.”

Sam rolled his eyes and snorted.  “Whatever, man.  How are you feeling? I heard you took quite a tumble.”

“Who called you? Charlie?”

Sam nodded.  “Of course.  Because if she doesn’t call me and let me know that you’re in the hospital, you never will.”

Dean waved him away.  “I feel a lot better.  Just a little sore, and tired.  It wasn’t anything serious.”

Sam frowned.  “Well, I would call a burning plank of wood falling from the ceiling and hitting you on the back of your head ‘serious’, but that’s just me.”

“Did you call me to bust my balls for doing my job?” Dean asked gruffly.

Sam made a face.  “No, you dumbass.  I called to make sure you were okay.  And also to remind you that my graduation is at the end of the month and I expect to see you there,” he said.

Dean smiled.  “Well you know I wouldn’t miss it for the world.  How’s Jess?”

Sam glanced around quickly before pulling something out of his pocket.  It was a small, black, velvet box.  Sam opened it and moved it towards the camera and Dean grinned.

“Is that what I think it is?”

Sam nodded.  “Yup, she doesn’t know,” he said in a whisper.

Dean beamed at his brother.  “Congrats man.  She’s a lucky girl,” he said.

Sam balked.  “Nah, man.  I’m a lucky guy.”

They both laughed.

“So how’ve you been, man?  I mean…today?” Sam asked cautiously.

Dean took a deep breath and smiled softly.  “I’ve actually been pretty good.  I feel…okay, Sammy.  I really do,” he said.

Sam smiled and nodded.  “I’m glad.  I really can’t wait to see you,” he said.

Dean swallowed thickly and nodded.  For a moment they were young again.  For a moment, he was ten and Sam was six and they were sitting next to each other in a group home, his arm slung around Sammy’s shoulder, holding on to him.  His mind flashed back to their first Christmas without their parents and how Sammy had cried himself to sleep.

“I heard you got company,” Sam said with a sly smile.

Dean rolled his eyes.  “Damnit, what did Charlie do, send out a newsletter?”

Sam snickered.  “Is it really him?” he asked.

Dean looked down and nodded.  “Yep.”

“And…are you two…like…together now?” Sam asked.

Dean’s cheeks turned red.  “I guess so, I mean…yeah?” he said with a casual shrug.  He looked up at the screen, expecting Sam to laugh at him but instead, there was a soft smile on his face and he nodded.

“I’m really happy for you Dean.  You deserve to be happy,” Sam said.

“You’re such a sap,” Dean teased.

Sam smiled.  “I know.  But seriously, Dean.  I’m glad you two…were able to reconnect.”

Dean smiled.  “Yeah.  Me too.”

“Listen, if he’s still around, he’s welcome to come to my Graduation.  I’d love to see him again.  And I’m sure you could use a road trip buddy since I know you’re not flying out here.”

Dean snorted.  “Fine.  I’ll tell him you invited him.”

“And that I said hello.  Where is he, anyway?” Sam asked.

“Downstairs, making dinner,” Dean said with a little blush.

“Are you trying to beat me to the altar?” Sam joked.

“Oh shut it,” Dean griped.

Sam laughed and shook his head.  “I should get going.  Got a lot of shit to do here,” he said gesturing to his room.

Dean hummed.  “Yeah, I’m sure,” he teased.  “It’s good to see you, Sammy.  I’ll see you in the flesh soon enough,” he said.

Sam nodded.  “You too, Dean. I miss you, I guess.”

“You guess?” Dean asked incredulously.

They both looked at each other and laughed.

“Yeah, I guess.  I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah.  Take care of yourself.  And tell Jess I said hello.”

“I’ll do that.  Tell Cas I said hey,” Sam said.

Dean nodded.  They smiled at each other and stared at each other for a few beats before disconnecting the call. Dean smiled softly and shook his head before getting up and heading downstairs to tell Cas about Sam’s graduation.  He hoped Cas would say yes and join him on the road trip.

But more importantly, he hoped Cas would be okay with his Metallica CD playing on loop on the way there.


	9. Chapter 9

“Are you really going to listen to that Metallica CD again?” Cas asked dryly.

Cas had instantly agreed to accompanying Dean on his road trip to California for Sam’s graduation that night when he asked him.  Now, two weeks later, they were on the road, driving across the country because Dean was too scared to get on a plane.

Dean glanced over at Cas and made a face.  “Hey, the driver picks the music—”

Cas rolled his eyes.  “Yes, yes, I know you’ve been telling that to me for like two whole days now.  But I’m tired of Metallica, Dean.  Can we please play one of the CD’s I burned?” he asked with a little whine.  “It’s bad enough I had to burn a CD…” Cas grumbled.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine.  Put on your little, Indie Rock mix or whatever,” he said.

Cas smiled and quickly hit the button on the radio to switch CD’s.  The car was silent for a moment and then soft guitar music began to play.

“Jesus Christ, Cas.  This is gonna make me fall asleep!” Dean said.

“It’s the middle of the day and I’ll be here to wake you up,” Cas said with a little smirk.

“You don’t have anything that sounds less like nap time music?”

Cas sighed loudly and reached out to stop the song.

Dean reached out at the same time and held on to his hand.  “Leave it,” he said with a small smile.

Cas looked over at him and smiled, settling back into his seat.

They drove in silence for a little while until Dean cleared his throat and caught Cas’ gaze in the rearview mirror.  “So…um…” his voice trailed off.

“What is it?” Cas asked perking up.

“So we’re about thirty minutes away from…Lawrence.  It’s a thirty minute detour from here, I mean,” Dean said with a little shrug.

“Oh…” Cas said softly.  A flood of thoughts washed over him.  They were thirty minutes from Lawrence, from…home?  He wasn’t even sure what home was anymore.  He had his home back in Oregon, it was where he lived, where he slept, where he worked.  Then there was his home here, in Lawrence, the big old house that he had lived in for ten years.  Then there was this strange new home he had discovered, one with Dean at his side.  He reached over for Dean’s hand and threaded their fingers together.

“Do you wanna…take a peek?  We can drive through…look at the old houses…” Dean said with a small smile.

“I have the keys, you know.  I’ve been carrying them around with me for years,” he said with a little chuckle.

“So is that a yes?” Dean asked glancing over at him.

Cas hummed and nodded.  “Yes,” he said with a soft smile.

Perhaps it was time for the both of them to finally put the ghosts of their old home behind them.

* * *

“When was the last time you came here?” Cas asked as they got out of the car.  His old house loomed in the distance.  The gate was locked but he had the key in his hand.

Dean squinted up at the house.  “Like, six years ago?” he said.  “I drove past this place…but it was all locked up,”   

Cas walked up to the gate and pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.  It all came rushing back to him, summers spent running through the woods, chasing shadows, diving into the lake, fishing, reading comics in the tree house, the softness of dean’s mouth pressed up against his own for the first time.  His breath hitched in his throat and he fumbled with the keys.  It took him a few tries, but eventually, he got the lock open and he pushed in the gate.  The hinges squeaked loudly and he flashed an apologetic look at Dean who simply shrugged.

Together, they crossed the threshold and stepped into the yard.  It was overgrown with weeds and wildflowers.  The large stone steps leading up to the house were littered with dried up leaves, and Dean spied a couple of old soda cans perched at the edge of the top step.

“You know, Missouri said that some kids had broken in once,” Dean said.

Cas nodded.  “Yes.  My mother had mentioned it to me.”  He absently kicked the soda cans down and watched as they clanked down the steps and onto the ground.  He walked up to the door and inserted the key into the lock.

Dean waited with baited breath to enter the house.

As expected, everything was covered in a thick layer of dust.  There was a stillness to the air, and Dean was suddenly reminded of that Smith’s song, Back to the old House.  He watched as Cas walked into the living room and looked around.  The couches were covered with sheets of plastic. There were countless books on the shelves, all of them covered in dust.  Cas flipped on the lights and Dean began to walk around, observing the house, a living, breathing memory.  It was so strange being back in here.  He remembered Cas’ mother and how she had frowned at him whenever he came over to see Cas.  She had never liked him and he never knew why.

“I could never bring myself to come back here,” Cas said as he pulled a book off the shelf.  A cloud of dust motes rose in the air and Cas waved his hand in front of his face.

“I don’t blame you, man,” Dean replied.  He was tilting his head, looking at a small sculpture on the mantle.  It was an angel and he remembered it from when he was a kid.  It had always given him the creeps, he didn’t know why.  “You know it’s really fuckin’ weird that you never got any of my letters.  I mean, I must have sent you at least four or five of them before…the fire,” Dean said.  “And you know what, I called you too.  About a million times.  Every time I called they said your number had been disconnected or some shit,” Dean said as he moved on from the statue.

Cas frowned at him.  “Really? I always wondered why you never called…”

Dean paused in front of a photo that had been left in its frame.  It was a wedding picture of Cas’ parents when they were younger and happier, it seemed.  Dean squinted at it.  “You know your mom never did like me.”

Cas snorted.  “That’s an understatement.  She thought you were…” his voice trailed off.

Dean turned to look at him.  “What?”

Cas’ face crumpled and he ran a hand through his hair.  “The letters, Dean.  My mother.  She must have taken them before I…” he swallowed thickly.

“Shit.  You think?”

Cas nodded.  “What else could have happened to them?”

“And your phone.  Dude, did she change your number?” Dean asked.

Cas laughed weakly.  “You know she…once my father told me that you moving was a good thing.  Because that way I could…”

Dean planted a hand on his hip and stared at him.  “That way you could what?”

“I could get a girlfriend or something, instead of hanging around with you all the time.”

Dean snorted.  “We were like ten, we didn’t need girlfriends.”

Cas laughed.  “Obviously.”

Dean waved his hand.  “Look, whatever, your parents hated me, I’m guessing they thought I turned you into a homo.  I don’t know, and I don’t care.”

“Neither do I, Dean, but…I can’t help but feel like those letters are here, somewhere…” he said looking around.

“You want to look for them?  This place is a mausoleum.  Call your mom.  Ask her what she did with them.”

Cas balked.  “No.  She won’t tell me, I’m sure of it.”

Dean rolled his eyes.  “Cas you’re a grown man.  Just call her.  She probably threw them out anyway,” he said with a shrug.

Cas pulled in a shaky breath and pulled his phone out of his pocket.  He hadn’t talked to his mother in months.  Calling her now out of the blue would be strange, for both her and him.  He could feel Dean’s eyes on him, waiting, and he turned around.  “I’m gonna go outside,” he said.

Dean nodded and walked over to him.  “Hey, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He curled his fingers around Cas’ wrist and pulled him close.  He pressed a soft kiss against Cas’ mouth and smiled when Cas kissed him back.

“I know.  But I need to,” Cas said with a wan smile.

Dean nodded.  “I’ll be here.”  He squeezed down on Cas’ wrist and then let go, watching him as he walked over to the door and back outside.  He sighed and walked back over to the bookshelf, picking up a book that Cas had put down.

* * *

Outside the air was less oppressive, but Cas still felt a heaviness on his heart as he dialed his mother’s number.  He pressed the phone against his ear and listened to it as it rang.

She picked up after three rings, her voice steady and clear as it had always been.  “Castiel,” she said softly.

“Mother,” he replied.

“I haven’t heard from you in months.  Is everything alright?” she asked.

Castiel sighed.  How was he supposed to tell his mother that for the first time in years, everything was actually alright?  Would he tell her that he had found Dean? That he was still in love with him, after all these years.  Would he tell her that going public as James Milton had been one of the best things he had ever done?  Would he tell her that he had kissed Dean on the beach beneath the stars while the waves rolled at their feet and water lapped at his toes?

Would he tell her that he was happy?    

Would she be happy for him?

“Yes, mom, everything is fine. I have a question for you.”

“When were you planning on telling me about these books, of yours, Castiel? Also, why aren’t you home?  Where are you?” she asked.

Cas rolled his eyes.  “Mom, please.  I need to know what you did with the letters.  The ones Dean sent when he moved,” he asked, ignoring her questions.  He heard the sharp intake of breath on the other line and then silence.  “Mom?”

His mother made an indignant sound and then she sighed.  “I hid them, Castiel.  It was for your own good.”

Cas felt anger rise in his throat, hot and buzzing like a thousand bees.  “You what?”

“When the first one came I opened it and read it.  The rest of them…I spoke to someone at the post office.  I had them collected for me and then I…put them away.  Dean was a bad influence on you, Castiel.  Your father and I agreed that it was the best course of action—”

“The best course of action?  Mom do you realize that I’ve spent the last twenty years thinking that my best friend was dead?  Do you know what that did to me?” he snapped.

“I’m sorry, Castiel—”

“I don’t care.  Where are the letters, mom?”

“Castiel—”

“Mom, please. I’m tired of this.  I’m tired of all of it.  I’m happy, do you even care? I found Dean, he’s alive, and well, and I love him,” he said with a little laugh.  He could imagine his mother’s face on the other end of the line, drained of blood, her mouth pressed into a thin line.

“In the old house…in my room.  There’s a painting on the wall.  The letters are behind it,” his mother said quietly.

The words hung in the air, heavy between them.  His mind was spinning.  All these years, she had hidden this from him.  He felt a mixture of anger, sadness, pity, and revulsion, all curling in his chest, spinning, like a tornado.  “Why’d you keep them?” he asked softly.

“I…I don’t know.  I suppose…a part of me always knew that…you’d want them some day,” she said.

“I should have had them years ago, mom.  You shouldn’t have hidden them from me…” he said, as he sat down on the porch step.

His mother sighed.  “There are lots of things I shouldn’t have done, Castiel.  Your father and I only had your best interests in mind.”

Cas nodded.  He pushed his glasses up on his head and he pressed his thumbs against his eyeballs.  He was getting a headache.  He needed to get off the phone.  It would only get worse. “Mom, I’ve got to go,” he said suddenly.

“Is Dean with you?” she asked.

Cas opened his mouth and then closed it again.  He realized something in that moment that he couldn’t believe he had missed all this time. “Dean has always been with me,” he said softly.

He hung up the phone before she could respond.

* * *

They found the letters, just as she had said, behind a painting of some blue roses on the wall.

Dean pulled the plastic off the bed and they sat on the mattress, side by side, reading the letters.  Dean’s hand shook as he opened the envelope.  He pulled out the letter and he felt tears prickle at his eyes.  His ten year old handwriting stared back at him and a tear rolled down his cheek.

_Dear Cas,_

_I miss you so much._

He handed it to Cas, unable to read the whole thing and he listened as Cas read it in silence, tears brimming in his eyes until he was forced to remove his glasses and wipe them with the back of his hand.

There were five of them, and they all started the same way, Dean talking about how much he missed Cas.  He had written about the new house, about his school, about Sam, and about other random things he had seen or done since moving.

The last letter was shorter and the language more strained.

_Hey Cas,_

_So I’ve been writing to you for a couple months now but I haven’t heard back from you.  I even called a few times and I didn’t hear anything back from you.  Is everything okay?  I guess you don’t miss me the way I miss you?  Maybe I’m just being silly.  You’re a busy kid, I get it. I really miss you though…I just wish I could hear your voice one more time…_

Cas stopped reading and he turned to Dean.  “This is…”

“Depressing as fuck?” Dean asked.

Cas grinned.  “Yeah.”

Dean pulled the letter out of Cas’ hand and put it to the side.  “Well, I have a better idea of what we could do in here…” he said with a wicked grin.

Cas blushed and smiled.  “Do tell,” he mumbled.

Dean smiled back and leaned in for a kiss.  "We could..." his voice trailed off as he began to press little kisses onto Cas' skin.  He kissed Cas' neck, moving onto his shoulder.  He dragged his lips along his jawline, up to his earlobe where he nibbled at it lightly.  

Cas moaned softly, melting, like putty in his hands.  

"So beautiful, Cas," Dean mumbled into his skin. He crawled off the bed, searching for his bag and the bottle of lube that was hidden in one of the pockets. 

Cas was already spreading his legs and palming his cock through his jeans.  His eyes were closed and there was a pretty flush spreading across his cheeks.  

Dean found the lube and scampered back over to Cas.  They removed their clothing with deft fingers, stopping to nip at each other's skin and to kiss.  Cas' breath was warm on Dean's neck, and Dean settled himself into Cas' lap, grinding down on his crotch, smiling at the glazed look in Cas' eyes. 

Since they had started having sex, they had often taken turns with topping and bottoming.  Dean discovered that Cas was bossy as a bottom, that he had a mouth on him and enjoyed getting loud.  He loved the feeling of being inside of Cas, of the way Cas would clench down around him.  Today, with Cas laid out before him like some type of offering, he couldn't help but want to fuck him.  He wanted Cas to get loud, wanted him to beg Dean for his cock.  "You want this, babe?" Dean asked.  

Cas hummed and nodded.  "Yes, Dean," he stuttered out.  

Dean smiled and hooked his fingers into the waistband of Cas' boxers.  Slowly, he slid them down, taking in the sight of Cas hard cock, and the little beads of precome that were already forming at the tip.  He wasted no time in moving down to Cas' heat.  He wanted this to be slow and romantic but the sounds that Cas was making as he stroked his cock were driving him crazy.  

"Any time today, Winchester," Cas snapped as Dean prepped him.   

Dean huffed out a laugh and reached for a condom, ripping open the packet and sliding it onto his cock.  

"Old man," Cas teased. 

Dean rolled his eyes and in one swift motion, he slid himself inside of Cas' heat.  

Cas gasped and his eyes shot open.  "Fuck," he moaned. 

Dean laughed and began to move his hips. 

* * *

The next morning, Dean woke up early.  They had gone out and bought some supplies, knowing that they would spend the night in the old house.  Weak sunlight filtered through the windows and illuminated the skin of Cas’ back.  He watched him for a few minutes, letting him sleep, before running his fingers through Cas’ hair.  They had wasted enough time in this house, in this town, they needed to be up and on the road soon, and as much as he would have loved to stay and make love to Cas again, they really had to go.

“Babe,” Dean mumbled.

Cas shifted on the bed and turned to face him.  He blinked blearily, sleep still in his eyes.  He smiled at Dean.  “Hey you,” he said with a squint.

Dean smiled.  “We gotta go,” he said softly.

Cas nodded and yawned.  “I know.”

“We can come back after the graduation if you want.  Clean up the place.”

Cas frowned.  “For what?”

Dean shrugged.  “I don’t know.  For whatever.  Summer holidays,” he said with a grin.

Cas rolled his eyes and pulled himself up to a sitting position.  He yawned.  “This bed is terrible.”

“Hell yeah it is,” Dean said.  “Let’s get you some breakfast,” he said as he stifled a yawn.  He swung his legs off the side of the bed and stretched.  He stopped short when he realized that Cas was staring at him.  “What are you doing?” Dean asked.

Cas smirked.  “Oh you know, just enjoying the view.”

Dean squinted at him and then laughed.  “Oh really?” he asked as he crawled back into the bed.  He straddled Cas’ hips and leaned in for a kiss.

“Dean.  Don’t we have to go?” Cas asked as Dean sucked a hickey into his neck.

Dean laughed.  “Yeah, we do.”

“Dean!  We have to be on the road…” Cas said in between giggles.

“Fuck the road,” Dean said with a laugh.  He nuzzled Cas neck and smiled.  “We have time.”

They had time, they always had time.

* * *

They stood on the threshold of the house, all packed and ready to go.  Cas turned around and looked at the living room one last time, memories of reading on the rug and watching TV on the couch came back to him.  The letters were tucked away safely in his notebook, most of them tear stained.  He had also picked up a couple of the old books from the shelves and had stuffed them into his back pack.

“You ready?” Dean asked quietly.

Cas looked over at Dean and nodded.  “Yeah, I think I am,” he said with a soft smile.

They walked out of the house and onto the porch.  Cas closed the door and locked it behind him. He stopped at the top step and looked down. He had come so far, the both of them had, and they had been through so much. He reached out for Dean’s hand and grasped on to it tightly.  He was happy, he was scared, but happy. He had so much to look forward to, so much to figure out, but right here, in this moment, he had everything he had ever wanted.

“Dean,” he said softly.

Dean turned to him.  “Yeah, Cas?”

Cas smiled and tilted his head to the side.  “I love you,” he said simply.  There were no frills, no grand gestures, none of that was needed for him and Dean, he knew that now.

Dean smiled and his entire face lit up.  “I love you too, Cas,” he said.  He leaned in and kissed him, soft and sweet, and then dragged him down the stairs.

They left the old house, leaving behind the ghosts of their past.  Holding on to each other, they walked together toward the gate, towards happiness, towards their future, towards something new.


	10. Chapter 10

**Epilogue**

_Demons of Light: Epilogue_

_Stretching before him were miles and miles of sea._

_The ocean rolled and rumbled in his wake and salt hung heavy in the air.  He could taste blood on his lips, and his body ached.  The war was over, thank the Gods, it was done.  In the distance he could hear the sounds of happiness, the sounds of freedom, men, women and children, talking and laughing.  It had been so long since he had heard laughter.  So long._

_Despite everything that had happened, Reikv would be lying if he said that he hadn't expected N'hal to disappear completely when the battle was done.  He knew N'hal.  He knew that he wasn't the type of person who stayed in one place, who settled with one person.  His heart felt heavy, and sorrow nipped at his heels.  Slowly, he began to move forward, toward the water. The waves lapped at his toes and he smiled._

_"Are you planning on drowning yourself?" someone asked._

_Reikv turned to his left, and smiled. "N'hal!"_

_N'hal grinned, his warm, brown skin covered in blood and sweat amongst other things._

_"I thought you left me...again," Reikv said with a tired sigh. He turned back to the water and stared out at the horizon._

_N'hal stepped up and stood next to him.  "Well, I did leave," he began.  "But...I decided to come back."_

_Reikv turned to face him, heart racing in his chest, unsure of what to say next.  "So.  Will you stay?" he asked quietly.  He could hear the desperation in his own voice and he winced._

_N'hal smiled and him and nodded.  He reached for his hand and threaded their fingers together.  "Yes, Reikv.  I will stay with you."_

_Reikv squeezed down on his hand and nodded, doing his best to keep his tears at bay._

_N'hal turned to Reikv and slowly, leaned in for a kiss. The waves crashed onto the shore, spraying them with salt water and foam, like a blessing._

_"You are everything to me," N'hal said softly as he brushed his fingers against Reikv's cheek._

_Reikv swallowed thickly against a knot forming in his throat but he smiled and leaned into N'hal's touch.  "As you are to me."_


End file.
